Polar
by MarionArnold
Summary: Merle was separated from the group through his own actions - but we all know that wouldn't have been the end of him - and that somehow he would find his way back to his brother. This is how he got there and the strange pairing OC that just happened.
1. Chapter 1

Welcome welcome welcome. This story was meant to be about the delectable Daryl Dixon but my recent obsession with the fabulous writers (and even the not so fabulous) of Fan Fiction has converted me wholly and fully into a 'Caryl' devotee and I just couldn't imagine anyone else in his life. But inspired by a couple of other writers (thanks Jaded79 and Praxid) I was reminded of another bad boy redneck – and you know what, he offered some more possibilities. I will try to be in character – but I will no doubt get the southern dialect wrong, despite watching reruns of TWD until October 2012 comes along.

I welcome any enthusiasm and constructive criticism of my first fan fiction attempt – but please be gentle.

Obligatory (and _really?_) disclaimer – I do not have any rights to TWD or its characters – they have just obsessed my every waking moment since the Season 1 marathon that fateful Saturday. I hope I haven't trampled on them too much.

POLAR

Chapter 1

"Stupid fuckin' car," he cursed under his breath as he jogged along the road. His backpack bounced uncomfortably across his shoulder, but he just couldn't be bothered to get his shortened right limb through the other strap to contain it more securely. Not that there was much to it anymore – he had used up almost all of the cans of food that he had managed to scavenge and all his spare ammo was gone –all he had left was what was in the pump action shotgun he carried in his left hand and the knives, one at his waist and one in his left boot – something he was still getting used to. There was a callous on this right ankle where it had used to sit, but trying to draw from across his body just hadn't worked and he had transferred the sheaf to his left ankle. It had blistered the first week, popped and blistered again. He was hoping that this next layer of skin would be tougher.

He could hear the cars in the distance – ambient noise now comprised only the odd bird unless there were walkers about and sound could be heard over greater distances. He estimated the distance from what he could hear and doubled it – he reckoned he still had a while before the pricks caught up with him "All for a box of food and bullets, dumn fuckers" he muttered breathlessly, ignoring the fact that he had almost beat the man to death to get the car keys off him. The keys to the car that had had less than a quarter of tank of fuel and had coughed its last a couple of miles back up the road. A car that still had the box of food and bullets sitting on the front seat because he couldn't carry them.

The town appeared as he crested the hill, nestled in a slight valley before the next hill a couple of kilometres ahead. He stopped for a moment, wiping his forehead with his stump to remove the sweat, breathing hard. _Fuck _he thought _I need to get some goods_. He listened to the approaching vehicles – something heavy by the sound of it and looked around. The land around the town was bare grassland, would only offer him protection if he lay on his belly and Merle Dixon would be damned if he just lay down waiting for death. The town was small, there wasn't too many houses, but surely he could find a place to hole up in – he still had a few bullets left anyway and Merle Dixon could at least take some fuckers out with him.

He passed by the first few houses with only a glance to see whether there were any geeks hanging around. He didn't see any as he entered what had to be the main area of town – a post office, a bank, what looked to be a grocery store. _Fuck, place doesn't even have a McDonalds_ he thought in disgust. He glanced around, thinking that he should get off the main drag to hole up – no point making it easy for the wankers. A high fence caught his attention and he jogged down the street past what had been a luminous sign.

The _Georgian Palace_ had apparently offered cheap rates, queen beds, cable tv, pool, spa, in house restaurant and boasted it was eco friendly. It didn't really look like much of a palace he decided as he walked along its wall. It looked like it had been shabby even before the end of the world, but despite the peeling paint and patches of crumbling mortar the wall was solid and the metal entrance gate was securely locked from the outside. He spent almost a full minute looking through that gate, examining each of the windows of the two storey building – searching for any movement, any hint that the fence would be more of a death trap than a boon. He saw nothing and looked around – he pushed a skip bin from an adjacent business to the wall and threw his bag and gun up on it, using his good hand to pull until his stump braced him and pushed to get himself all the way up. He reached up to his length and placed the shotgun along the wall – butt closest to him. His bag he flung it over the wall. It landed with a thump and he jumped up – his good hand straining to hold him as he flung his leg up and over the wall.

It wasn't something that many men could have done one handed but Merle had always been built like a tank and despite his use of drugs and alcohol, he had spent a lot of time at the local gym and was as strong as ox. Plus of course Merle had always be an ornery son of a bitch and he wasn't about to let only having one hand get in his way. Not that he had comes to terms with it – more that he wanted to stay alive to carry out his grudge.

He landed with a thump with the gun in his hand but pointed away from him and stayed still for another moment, poised ready to run or to shoot – whatever was required. There was nothing. He picked up his bag, which meant he had to put his gun down first and then pick it up after the bag was on his shoulder. The bag fell forward as he leant to get the gun and he swore "fucking pig – wouldn't be so fuckin' tough without his cuffs", kicking it back with his shoulder before squatting down to reach for the gun.

Behind the wall he couldn't hear the approaching vehicles – but his sense of time had been made acute through the years of breaking and entering – he reckoned he had a good 20minutes to go.

He walked along the pathway, peeking through a small gap in the curtains and then testing a door of room 113. It was locked, but he didn't try to force it open. He wasn't really all that keen on having a lower storey hideout and a locked door would make those pursuing him kick it open in case he was in there. Not only would they waste time looking for him, but he would hear them coming. He kept on walking, around the corner towards the back of the _Palace_ where there was a pool, a spa and a sorry excuse for a children's play set. A large shed with some wires was set in the far rear corner and he hesitated for a moment before shaking his head and continuing on. The white wall continued around the back, some creepers cascading over its top, an iron man gate also securely locked and showing only a glimpse into some trees beyond.

Everything was clean and quiet and something in him tingled. There was something wrong with this place, but time was ticking so he kept on walking. He found the back stairs and started up them, pausing at the landing for only a moment to look over the back wall into the stand of trees around what looked to be a small creek. Whoever had been in here had barricaded themselves in good – _but are they dead dead or just half dead_ he wondered, his finger tightening on the trigger.

The first room that he tried was locked too and he kept walking, the second was locked and the third – his hand froze on the fourth. _Wha' the fuck?_ He wondered. _Music?_ It was something he hadn't heard for a long time – even the radio in the cars he had found or liberated, as he liked to class it, hadn't had anything except static. The Mercedes he had found, after dragging its geek owner out of the seat and kicking its brains in, had had a cd player in it – but without his hand he hadn't been able to press any buttons and he had been in too much of a rush to quit driving for the minute it would have required to use his left hand. He had gotten used to the silence.

He concentrated, almost stopping breathing. The tune was familiar – it was an old song by that pussy Prince, but that wasn't the voice he could hear. He started moving towards the sound and the noise cleared up into words "_I just want your extra time and your KISS_".

The music stopped suddenly and he stopped, shaking his head at even the thought of Merle Dixon chasing music from a hip pumping faggot like Tom Jones – then "_You don't have to be beautiful to turn me on_" the music started up again and he tensed. He pulled his rifle up, tucking the butt under his arm to stabilise it and stalked forward, past about five rooms before he was on top of the noise. "_I just need your body, baby, from dusk till dawn_."

Even on top of it, the music wasn't that loud. But there was something else – some other sound. He took another step forward, past the door to the window – like the other rooms the curtains weren't fully drawn and he looked in – expecting to see an empty room with a faulty cd player with long lasting batteries.

That wasn't what was in the room and he stared, his gun dropping at about the same rate as his jaw.

She was half dressed, wearing only a black utilitarian bra – the kind that holds them in, not throws them out for admiration – and tight fitting shortettes and tiny little socks above what looked to be combat boots. She was built generously, although if he'd been making real observations he would have noticed her ribs weren't covered by much flesh and that her abdomen was tight with muscle. He might have noticed that her hair was short, but slightly overgrown for its style and that her earrings were a gawdy set of parrots. He might have noticed that she had high cheekbones and a slight nose, but that her lips were thin and her chin too pronounced for real beauty. But all he noticed was the slight sheen of sweat on her skin, especially on the smooth white skin above her chest, and a silver necklace which bounced up and down in a hypnotising manner as she danced and sang to the music, kicking out her hip, slapping her hand on her butt and then bending over, her head coming up as her hand started at her throat and wiped all down her chest, down her stomach and onto... He stared into her eyes – wide brown eyes.

"_I just want you extra time and your KISS_." Her breath died all of a sudden, frozen in horror. _Shit_ she thought, mesmerised by his blue eyes, only a part of her mind taking in the rest of the details. His face was round, covered with a short sharp stubble, the hair on his head barely any longer. He was built like a brick shithouse, his chest as deep as it was wide, the muscles in his arms defined and bulging. His chest too was fully defined, _a B cup_ prompted some impish part of her mind, over the top of what could only be described as a six pack on steroids. He was filthy – what had used to be a white shirt was now all types of shades of grey, brown and rust _probably blood_ she thought. He wore a battered leather vest overtop of the shirt, the handle of some type of rifle could be seen held loosely against this arm, the strap of some type of bag over his left shoulder.

Merle took her in, drinking in the sight of some female anatomy after such a drought. He smirked slightly and took a step forward.

An explosion of white teeth suddenly erupted in front of him, shattering the moment with a thwack against the glass panel of the window. "Fuck!" he shouted and stepped back in reflex.

She bolted, spinning on her heel and racing through the open door behind her, grabbing her clothes with her left hand as she passed them.

"Hey!" he yelled as he saw her spin. "Git back 'ere bitch!" Last thing he needed was some screaming wench telling those others where he was. He tried the door – it was locked – but a shoulder punch with his weight behind it was enough the shatter the lock from the frame and he stumbled in. He absorbed his surroundings as he ran through the open doorway – the music still blaring with the end of Tom Jones, the piles of books and movies, the kitchenette stocked with a number of jars, tins, dishes draining at the sink and luminous clock blinking from the microwave. Through the door was the bedroom, queen bed neatly made with a couple of suitcases sitting on the bench next to the cupboard, a handbag and book on the bedside table. She wasn't there and he spun, found another shut door and pushed against it. It gave in easier than the front door and he burst into a one room bathroom – shower, toilet and basin – just to see her legs disappear out the window. He grabbed and missed "Damn it sugartits – wait up!" he called but she didn't stop, hitting the outside verandah and racing away. He snarled – he was too big to get out the window and retraced his steps, barrelling out of the room and using his stump as leverage to spin him to the right.

He rounded the corner of the building – she had her shirt on now and was working on the pants, hopping along with one leg in while she forced the combat boot through the hole. She glanced around at him and started running again.

"Oh come on honey," he called. "Ol' Merle won't hurt you!" She kept running and he snarled "until I catch you bitch!"

She dove into another room and he followed, only a few metres behind her. He flailed abruptly, his upper body continuing forward even as his lower skidded to a halt on the threshold - his weapon hitting the door frame and jolting out of his grasp. It fell, bouncing once on an exposed floor beam before dropping to the ground one storey below. There was slight puff of ash as it landed amongst the remnants of what looked to have been a pretty serious fire. "Fuck" he screamed and looked up as she finished tiptoeing along the beam and faced him.

"Leave me alone mate – I'm not worth it." She told him.

Something was wrong with her voice but he was too angry to hear it. "Damn bitch – that's my gun. You're going to get that for me."

"Get it yourself arsehole" she snapped at him and turned.

"Bitch," he snarled and started along the beam without hesitation, despite the blackened sections through the middle, using his arms to balance. She didn't hang around to wait, but spun again, stepping through a hole in the brick wall into another room and disappearing. He followed her more slowly this time, spitting when he saw that there was virtually no floor in this room at all and edged his way along the half piece of timber around the edge of the room until he could stand on the one beam left. She was already across it and opening the door to the other verandah, she flashed him one glance before stepping out and turning to run again.

"When I get my hands on you," he muttered furiously, stepping carefully along the beam and opening the door to follow her.

The frying pan hit him flat in the face, not quite breaking his nose with the impact but sending a spike of pain right up into his sinus and starting a ringing in his forehead. "Fuckin' bitch," he howled, grabbing at his head.

"Go home you bastard – leave me alone!" she hissed at him and he heard her steps getting fainter, before a door opened and it was silent again.

Except for the noise of a vehicle.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Marion breathed in as hard as she could while still keeping as silent as she could. She peeked through the slit between the doors of the wardrobe, praying that he would walk straight past the door and into one of the other rooms where she had left the door opened. Of course she didn't know what she was going to do after that, he didn't really have the look of someone who would give up easily on something he wanted – and from the look in his eyes at the window, he wanted her. Then she had gone and pissed him off.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_ she berated herself silently. She had been so careful for so long – first in dealing with the dead as they rose, then in dealing with the living. A woman on her own soon learned that trust was a rare commodity and even the most decent of men (and some women) were not so decent when there was not even the hint of law around. She had always hidden from them, made the rooms look as empty as possible but leaving enough to be pillaged in satisfaction - she had been so careful. Until now. This time her early warning system had failed her. She frowned, looking down at him – crouched by her feet and he thumped his tail at her in response to her look. She held her finger up to her lips and then looked up – directly into a sneering set of light blue eyes.

"Well hello honeypouch," he drawled in a thick southern accent. "Come on out darlin' so I can..."

She came out alright, at speed – flinging the door into his face and sprinting towards the door. Except that she never made it – he stepped back as the door hurtled towards him and reached out – latching around her wrist with a manacle of iron. He yanked her towards him with such force that her shoulder protested and she landed hard against him. His hand released her wrist and wrapped under her arm across her chest and to the other shoulder. She grabbed at his wrist and her fingers slid off some type of guard, some type of metal stud digging into her fingers. She flung both hands up and scratched at his arms – he laughed at her, his breath whispering at her ear.

There was a flurry of barking and he felt a sharp pain in his ankle "Wha' the hell?" he snarled, looking down. He shook his leg and then kicked out and the barking changed to a yelping as the white ball of fluff flew across the room and hit the wall with a thud.

"You prick," she swore and struggled harder – throwing her head back in an attempt to catch him in the nose again. He dodged easily and her head hit his collarbone, making her eyes water and causing him to chuckle again. She kicked back, he swivelled, catching the blow on his thigh instead of the intended target and pushed one leg between hers and wrapped his calf over the top of her knee, then the other, holding them in place.

"Now now, no need for that," he chided, squeezing his arm across her chest such that she had trouble breathing. "Settle down – all I want to do is talk."

"Yeah right," she scorned, but she stopped struggling. His arm let up a little bit of pressure so she could breathe although it remained inflexibly across her chest. "Who are you?"

"Ssh," he said instead, his eyes focused on the door to the outside. "You hear that?"

"What?" she demanded, her ears full of her own breathing and the thumping of her heart and a disconcerting feeling from his breath on her ear.

"Cars – voices," he replied, still looking out the door, but with difficulty. Her buttocks were pressed hard against his groin with how he was holding her and his body was starting to realise how long it had been.

She held her breath for a moment – there was the dim rumble of voices – men's voices. Lots of men's voices. Close – they were inside the compound. "Damn you," she swore at him, struggling again. "What have you done?"

Her moving was not doing his concentration any favours. "Quit it bitch," he snarled. "I got more important thin's to think 'bout than fuckin'."

She froze because in their close proximity it was obvious that his body _had_ begun to think about it.

"Have you got a place to hide?" he demanded. They had obviously found the evidence of his entry over the wall and he could hear them cutting through the locks on the gates and driving in. Lots of them too.

"Yes – but it's for me to hide – you won't fit." She managed almost afraid to breathe with evidence of his arousal hard in her back.

"Try me," he muttered. He let her legs go first, breathing a sigh of relief as her form extracted away from him, and then her body, grasping at her wrist before she could get fully away. She glared at him.

"Why shouldn't I just scream? Let them take you?" she demanded.

He smirked at her "They will take me a'right – but what do you reckon they might do to a pret'y li'le thin' like you?"

He could see her fuming – but he knew that she knew he was right. She nodded once – a decision made. "Dog."

For a moment he thought she was cursing him, but then the white ball of fluff that he had punted earlier arrived at her feet, tail securely between its legs and looking up at him with frightened eyes. He snarled at it and it gave a tiny yelp and ran out the door. She turned on him, slapping his chest with her free hand.

He laughed at her, her hand bouncing off his chest like solid concrete. "Dog," she called again but softly. The animal didn't reappear and she bit back a curse, but she didn't call again, dropping to her haunches as she led him to the door. She looked pointedly at his hand on her wrist and then up at him, and then at his hand. There was already a mark forming where he had caught her out of the cupboard. His eyes narrowed, but he released her and she rubbed at it absently as she looked out the door.

They were still on the lower floors, so she motioned with her head and crouching low, they ran along the verandah bent over double so that the waist high brick wall gave them cover. She stopped by a room, and reaching into her shirt she pulled out a necklace with a key, starting slightly when she realised how close behind her he was. For a big man he sure moved quietly. The door opened smoothly and she crept in – he kept his shoulder against the door in case she tried to shut it on him but she had long gone past the idea of escaping from him. She had no intention of trusting him – but he wanted to be away from those other men as much as she did (for whatever reason) so she would keep away from them first before trying to figure out how to get away from him.

He shut the door behind them and carefully turned the latch. He turned and she motioned with her head, she was standing on a bench and pushing up the ceiling. It was the limit of her reach and for a moment he allowed himself to admire the way it stretched out her form, lifting the bottom of her shirt above the top of her cargo pants and showing the small indent of a belly button. There was a squeak and he cringed, looking to her face to see her grimace – her teeth biting her lip as she held the edge of a ladder in her hand. He made a motion with his hand across his neck and she nodded, letting the ladder go as he stepped towards her. He handed up his bag and she tossed it lightly into the space before looking down to find his shoulders bent in front of her. She hesitated, but gingerly put her knees on them and her hands on his head. He straightened effortlessly and she rose in the air with a gasp, reaching up and grasping the edge of the manhole. His left hand came up to her thigh as she lifted her right foot onto his shoulder and stood, using the extra height that he gave her to shimmy into the roofspace. He stood up on the bench and reached up with this arm, pulling himself up.

Marion reached over him, grabbing for his second hand – which wasn't there – only a scarred stump from where his wrist should have been. She hesitated only a moment and then grabbed his belt, using that to hoist him up until he could place his elbows onto the edge of the hole. He pulled himself and she grabbed his leg, pushing him up the rest of the way, clambering underneath her along the beam of the roof and turned on his side to her "Can't keep ya hands off me hey sugartits?" he leered.

She turned from replacing the manhole cover with a haughty look "Would you mind keeping to the matter at hand?" she demanded.

"Sure t'ing honeypouch," he looked around. _Damn hoity toighty bitch. _"Here? There's lots of room," he mumbled.

"No," she whispered. "They normally look here," she turned herself around and crawled past him, her body swiping along every part of his.

Merle bit his lip, letting her feet get past his face before following her along the beam. The roof came closer and closer as they approached the edge of the building until he was had to turn his head sideways to see where they were going and was more dragging himself rather than crawling. She arrived at a wall and extended her arms, latching her fingernails at the edge of board and slid the panel across. She pulled herself in and felt him following.

Like she said, there was almost not enough room for him. He had her pressed hard against the junction of the roof and the ceiling, his whole body was hard against her and the panel was hard up against his back. His shoulder was pressed against the roof in between two trusses and he barely had enough room to reach over and slide the panel shut. His feet were amongst some loose items – he couldn't see in the darkness what they were.

"The bottom floor is clean," reported a voice directly below them and he felt her start. He placed a hand on her hip in warning, but she made no noise – she did reach up with her own hand and deliberately flick his hand away. He smirked in the darkness.

"Start on the top floor – the fucker is here somewhere," commanded another voice, only just a small distance away.

"Hey boss – look what I found!" called a voice from some distance.

"What the fuck are you goin' to do with that thing?" demanded the leader with some derision.

"Eat it,' replied the other. There was a curse and a yelp "Fuckin' thing bit me!"

There was some laughter "Just your luck Mike – live through the end of the world and die of rabies!"

"Dog!" whispered Marion, and turned over to find her way blocked.

"Ssh," he gestured with his finger to his lips.

"You reckon we need ketchup of something with it Bo?" asked a voice below them.

"I don't reckon there'll be any meat on that scrawny thing," derided another. "It's just fluff!"

"Well it'll be a change from bloody canned beans," snapped the voice who had found it.

Marion moved again, this time shimmying herself down a little until her head was near Merle's waist and she started sliding herself over him. "Wha' tha fuck?" he demanded in a whisper. "Stay still ya crazy bitch!"

"Have to get Dog," she whimpered, her legs past him, but her chest stuck on his thighs. "Let me out."

"Ya goin' to get yaself killed ova a fuckin' furball," he snarled in a whisper.

"Have to get Dog," she repeated, forcing her chest over him and scraping her head along the roof to get over. She reached over and grabbed at the door – his hand snatched at her and she pulled back, her elbow slamming into the panel with an audible thump. Her face contorted in pain and she bit her lip as she struggled to keep quiet.

"Well well well, and who is that up there?" said a voice below them and there was a bang that vibrated through the surface. Merle grabbed the panel, trying to force it open and Marion grabbed it as well – in their haste they pushed it off its runners and it ground to a stop a third of the way open.

"Git!" ordered Merle as the surface beneath him vibrated again. She hesitated. "Now ya stupid bitch!" and he shuffled his legs over as far as they could go. Another bang. She moved then, sliding up along his lower half and squeezing her shoulders then her hip and finally her feet through the hole. There was another bang, another and then a crack. "Fuck!" spat Merle as he tumbled to the ground, landing with a thud on his back amongst feet. He blinked as dust cascaded on top of him, using his good arm to shield his face from the worst of it, before moving it to look up.

Right into the barrel of a shotgun.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

They laid into him with their feet and the butt of a rifle: he covered his face with his arms, grunting only as his ribs copped a hammering. But despite himself he yelled out as a foot came down hard on his groin, blades of pain racing throughout him.

"Enough," said a quiet voice and the blows stopped. Merle's stomach dropped as he recognised the voice. Hands grabbed his arms and manhandled him to his feet, twisting his arms behind him and holding him at the elbows even against his best efforts.

"Naughty naughty Merle," oozed the quiet voice when finally he had stilled somewhat. Merle glared at the man from beneath his eyebrows. He was a tall man; built well like a city man who jogged every morning and went to the gym two or three nights a week; clean shaven with his black hair recently cut; clothes relatively clean with no holes in them. He carried a handgun nonchalantly in his hand and didn't appear to be worried about Merle's best death face. "Robbie is sooo disappointed in you and you _know_ how he doesn't like to be disappointed."

"So why's he put up wit' you _Terence_?" sneered Merle. "Oh, t'at's right – he was lookin' for someone new wasn't he?"

The man's mouth twitched before suddenly lashing out with the gun and catching Merle full on the side of his face. Merle staggered, only the man gripping his elbows keeping him upright. He straightened, spitting out some blood to the side. "Someone who could 'it like a real man."

The man radiated with rage – placing his gun against Merle's forehead. Merle glared back.

One of the men holding Merle cleared his throat and after a moment, Terence lowered his gun. "Nice try Merle, but Robbie is waiting for you." The men holding Merle laughed lowly and Merle felt cold. Terence's eyes flicked to the men behind him. "Bring him."

Merle struggled as they passed the first few rooms, the grip on his arms didn't slacken, but he had the satisfaction of banging a couple of them into the building or the side wall. But there were three of them behind him and they finally just kicked him in the back of his knees and dragged him along. They rounded the corner of the building and stopped suddenly – Merle lifted his head.

She stood there – at the top of the stairs, a set of feet visible lying very still in front of her, her hands propped gently on the hilt of a _bloody broadsword_ realised Merle. _Where the fuck had she been hiding that?_ he wondered. He pulled himself up slightly to his knees and felt the jab of a blade in his back.

"That's my dog," she gestured with her chin at the ball of fluff being carried in one hand by one of the men. She glanced at him and he scowled at her _Thanks a fuckin' lot bitch!_

"Well well," Terence's voice was oily, but full of appreciation as he looked her up and down. The shirt she wore was almost skin tight, nothing much was left to the imagination. Of course Merle didn't need his imagination – he had seen what was under that shirt _Fuck I must need some pussie_ he decided, if he could think about her tits while he was being held with a knife to his back. Terence was still talking to her and Merle forced his attention back to the conversation.

"Doesn't matter who I am Slick," she replied and Merle smirked at her even tone. "That's my dog – let him go." Again her eyes found him and he frowned _wha'?_

"I think it matters very much my dear, because you and I are going to get very closely acquainted," he brought his gun out from behind his back and pointed it at her.

"You better be ready to use that Slick," she said with only a small pause. "'Cause there's no way that you're going to get to know me any other way. And if you miss...," she let the sentence hang unfinished as she wobbled the sword around on its point slightly with her hands, her eyes again catching Merle's with a hint of exasperation. He frowned and looked more carefully at her. Her cargo pants were covered in black marks, there was a black mark on her cheek _ash! _and she was looking at him with slightly widened eyes. He flicked his eyes slightly to his right, catching the smirk before it formed and putting his eyes front again. _Clever bitch_.

"Now, there's no need to be all woman's lib on us," soothed Terence, still holding the gun on her. "We're reasonable men and I reckon that when you get to know us all..."

"I know all I need to know about you," she interrupted. "Now – let my dog go." She announced each word deliberately and with a space in between each one.

The man looked at her for a while, the other three men also staring intently, fingering their weapons and Marion suppressed a shudder. She looked again at the redneck, he was looking straight back at her – had he figured it out? If he hadn't, then this wasn't going to end so well – for any of them.

"Mike – give me the dog." Terence turned and held out his hand, Mike released one hand from the animal and passed him out towards the other man, the dog wiggling as the grip on him was released.

"Skitch 'em!" Marion cried and the dog exploded into action. It launched from Mike's hand to his face – there was a scream and a burst of blood and Mike fell to the floor. Merle erupted, flexing his muscles and breaking from the momentarily lapsed grasp. He dropped down and the knife flew over the top of him – he swung up with his stump and caught one of them between the legs. He reached out with his left hand and grabbed the stock of the shotgun just extended from behind the pot plant and with one smooth movement cocked it and discharged it right into the face of the second man.

Marion's grip tightened as the dog hit the ground and she swung up with all her might. The blade was heavy, but once she got it moving it was unstoppable – the man in front of her caught it coming out of the corner of his eye and lifted his gun. It fired as the blade passed under his arm and through flesh and bone, continuing its arc into the wall. The body dropped into two, spurting out blood across a wide arc before pumping out into a widening puddle on the floor.

The shot sounded behind him and he dropped down again, spinning – he took in the ruin of a body and her stance with the sword still pinned in the edge of the wall. She looked up at him, a spray of blood all over her chest and face and he smirked at her.

Bullets suddenly exploded around them and he dropped to the ground, she dropped the sword and threw herself across the stairs to press up against the wall. Mike groaned and rose up off the floor, holding his face together – there was another hail of bullets and he jerked three, four times and then hit the ground, dead. The third man froze with Merle's gun in his face. "Pistol – now". With shaking hands, the man pulled out his gun and dropped it at Merle's feet. "Fuck off." He man nodded, holding his hands out in front of him as he backed away around the corner. They heard him yell out to the men below before he stood up and ran away.

"Now what?" Marion demanded, hearing a slight note of hysteria in her voice and hating it. She edged away a little as the pool of blood crept closer to her.

"Hey bitch – it's your party."

"They're your guests," she retorted, looking at the two bodies behind him _And he didn't even blink!_ "And you've got the guns."

"Ya see 'ow many of them there were?" Merle cracked open the shotgun, folding it back up after assuring himself that he still had shells. He checked the other gun, it had four bullets in the clip. He reached over and grabbed Terence's gun – counting its bullets.

"I saw two over near the gate," she replied, one hand absently stroking the dog's head in her lap while her eyes watched him intently. "There could have been more though."

"Ya need to get to a safe spot – ya got anot'er?"

She nodded, watching as he placed the two handguns inside his belt on his left side where he could reach them easily. "What are you goin' to do?"

"Goin' after the pricks," he said.

"Why?" she demanded in a strident whisper. "Hide with me. Wait them out."

Merle snorted, already on his feet crouched behind the wall. "That worked real well last time dinit? Besides I t'ought ya said ya didn't have somewhere for me ta 'ide."

"I'll find somewhere," she said, reaching over to grab at his arm. "Please."

He looked at her hand on his misshapen forearm and shook it off. "Why do ya care?"

"I don't like killing," she replied, pulling her hand back swiftly. Merle took a pointed incredulous look at the body between them. "That was different," she said defensively. "That was self defence. You are talking about hunting those men down."

Merle's lip curled, _if she knew what type of men they were, she'd probably beg for me to kill 'em. _

_And what would she think of you big brother?_ queried a derisive voice. _Ya reckon she would have touched ya then?_

"Git into ya hiding spot," snapped Merle more savagely than her spoken words had warranted. She flinched and the dog growled slightly.

Marion chewed her lip, trying to think. Then she looked up suddenly: Merle held his fingers to his lips and carefully edged himself up to look over the wall.

"Damn" he breathed and stood up fully, watching the car driving away with three men.

"Are they gone?" she whispered.

"Yup," he nodded, looking down at her. _No point crying ova spilt milk._ He took a couple of steps towards her to reach his hand out to her, after sticking the rifle under his right arm. "Dumn fuckas" he snorted and yanked her to her feet.

"Why would they do that?" she wondered, extracting her hand from his but not moving away from him.

He shrugged even though he reckoned he had a fair idea _be long gone by then. _ "Maybe they didn't hav' tha balls for it," he pointed to the headless body. "Ya cut of their head."

She looked down and shuddered, closing her eyes. "I need a shower, the hotter the better." She stepped past him and grabbed her sword, grimacing as she yanked the blade from the mortar. She glanced back and looked him up and down. "Wouldn't do you any harm either," she added as she started to walk away.

His head turned, following her "Shower? Hot? Ya's be fucki' wit' me bitch?"

"Not until hell freezes over," she retorted, without turning around and kept on walking.

Merle looked down at the body in front of him – it looked dead, but nowadays you couldn't just be damn certain of anything. He pulled out his knife and stabbed all four of them, not there was much left of the one he had got with the shotgun, through the eye. He wiped his blade on Mike's shirt and stood, a noise making him look down. The dog looked back at him, his leg cocked in a measure of contempt over the body of Mike for another moment before it sniffed and trotted after the woman.

Merle snorted "Fuckin' oath mutt."

It wasn't until the water hit the back of his head and ran over his face that he realised how much he had missed hot water. Never one to worry overly much about being clean, between hunting in the woods, getting pissed at the pub or getting high in his lounge room amongst stale beer and old pizzas, showering had been an infrequent chore. But as he let the water wash away the grime and warm aching muscles he almost groaned in pleasure. He stayed for a few moments like that, letting the water drip over his face and flood down his back. He lifted his right arm to wipe his face and for a moment stared again at the ruined stump. _Fuck_ he thought and then lifted his left hand. He turned in the shower, flipping the lid off the bottle from the armful of stuff she had given him as she had shoved him into the room around the corner from hers and giving it a sniff. It didn't smell too bad and he held it in his fingertips and poured it onto his palm. He dropped the bottle to the ground and started to lather himself up – soon the water ran black and he was groping on the floor for whatever dregs he could get out of the bottle to stick in his hair. After a bit longer the razor even started to look tempting.

He could hear the water running next to him: she was in the shower as well. Just the thought of her naked so close _and yet so far _to him made him remember his first view of her through the window. The luscious breasts that moved up and down as she danced, the slight sheen of sweat all over her torso, her head flipping back and granting him a view down her chest.

"Damn pricktease skank," he muttered and turned off the hot water.

Marion jumped, her water suddenly going from comfortable warmth to blazing hot. _So he's getting out_ she thought and hastily turned her water off, frowning in slight confusion as she heard the water still going. She towelled herself dry quickly, pulling on her underwear as she heard the water turn off. She had her pants on by the time the slight noise of the old shower door grated through the wall and fastened her bra as she toed her own bathroom door open. She pulled her shirt over her head and quickly turned out, the dog following on her heels.

"Don't get dressed!" she called as she opened his door slightly, easing her way in. His room was a different format to hers; his bathroom was immediately on her right as she walked in the door, the kitchenette opposite and the bedroom further into the room. She jumped to find herself almost on top of him as he stood on the threshold of the bathroom.

He was naked – quite gloriously so – facing slightly away from her with his left hand up rubbing his head with the towel. Her first impression of his physique had been right – he was built solid. His shoulders were wide and muscles bulged all down his back, yet angling down to a slim waist over lean hips and tight rear end. Red and white marks marred the look across his back and she frowned.

"Ya got somet'in' else in mind girly?" he drawled, his southern accent very pronounced, as he turned and found her looking at him. She was blushing, diverting her eyes from him studiously almost as if she weren't used to seeing a naked man, and he let his eyes wander up and down her form – she was in a bright pink singlet shirt which covered her like a glove, not leaving his memory much to fill in and 3 quarter pants which hugged her rear end and left her lower legs free for perusal. "'Cause ya got too much clothin' on for bumpin' uglies."

She gritted her teeth, having averted her eyes from him after that one _all encompassing _glance – he certainly had no qualms about being overdressed and he casually kept drying out his ear with his towel, leaving the rest of him naked in front of her. "My clothing is fine," she snapped, wishing that that glance hadn't quite been so comprehensive and hoping furiously that she wasn't flushing. "I just thought you should put on some different clothes that aren't covered with sweat, blood and goodness knows what else and smell to high heaven."

His brow twitched "Well that's a piss poor second choice ta fuckin'," he commented, swinging the towel around his hips and securing it. "But wotcha got?"

She gestured with her finger, turning on her heel. He blinked, but reached over to shove his shotgun under his right arm and followed her along the verandah and down the stairs, Marion grimaced as she stepped over the bodies in the way along the pathway next to the rooms but he didn't even look at them. She stopped in front of one of them and again extracting the key on a necklace, bent over (Merle tipped his head to the side and admired her rear as she did so, pursing his lips in a soundless whistle) and inserted the key in, turning the handle and pushing open the door. She stepped in and he followed her, looking around at the motel room – queen bed as advertised made without a crinkle on the sheets, towels neatly folded at its foot. _Christ_ he thought, glancing into the bathroom - even the end of the toilet paper had been folded in to a V.

Marion opened the cupboard, taking one look over her shoulder at him. The towel was still holding onto his hips, but barely, there was a suggestion of hair slightly darker than what dusted his chest - she swallowed and turned back to the cupboard. "Bo and Larry were about your size – there's underwear in those drawers, deodorants and stuff in that cupboard and there's a couple of coats up in that shelf," she turned back to him again. He came forward slowly, using his hand to flick through the cupboard full of clothes, shirts neatly ironed on hangers, pants also ironed and draped over the hangers, other shirts and jeans folded neatly in shelves up one edge of the cupboard. "Take what you want – you can burn your old clothes, unless you're attached to them in which case I'll wash them for you."

He blinked and looked down at her in astonishment. "Where'd ya get all t'is stuff?"

She smiled briefly, "From what the other guests left behind," she shrugged. "I've washed them all, tried to keep everything in roughly the same size – but not all of the clothes had tags, so it wasn't an exact science." She looked up at him, seeing the puzzled look on his face and shrugged again. "I've been alone for a while." She smiled again and turned away from him, walking to the door. "I'll leave you to it – are you hungry? I'll get you some lunch," she added as he nodded once.

"Wha' the fuck?" he said aloud to himself as she closed the door softly, but started to sort through the clothes with something approaching enthusiasm.


	4. Chapter 4

There's a bit more conversation going on here – hope my Merle speech isn't incomprehensible. Grammar isn't my strongest suit, but I do try to be accurate. Having recently rewatched TWD S1, I think I may have gone a bit heavy – but too late to change now!

Chapter 4

A slight scent of sandalwood and Dog's half hearted growl announced his return and Marion looked up from the kitchen bench. She smiled at him, clicking her fingers at Dog, who subsided with a sniff.

"Like wha' ya see darlin'?" he growled with a hint of lewdness.

"You scrub up alright," she admitted. In fact he looked quite presentable despite the presence of the old battered vest, in a new black t shirt over the top of drill trousers, which he had cinched with a black belt. His face was freshly shaven and without the layers of grime and the frown, which seemed to be his default facial position, he looked almost handsome. She pointed to the table, "There is some lettuce, tomato, cucumber..." her voice faded off as he sat down and bit hungrily into the ham sandwich that she had made, "but I didn't really figure you for a salad type of guy," she finished dryly. She returned to the bench and placed her sandwich on the table, then opened a fridge and placed a Coke in front of him and a Fanta in front of her seat. He gave a grunt and cracked the can, pouring it down his throat as she sat.

"So how come ya got power still?" he asked around a mouthful.

Marion scrupulously finished her mouthful before replying. "Solar panels on the roof," she gestured with her head, "bank of batteries out behind the pool. As long as I don't go crazy with the appliances, and nothing breaks, I have power."

"Fuck me," he breathed. He saw a look go across her face. "Wha' the hell's wrong with ya?"

She looked at him for a moment and then shrugged "You swear a lot."

"Wha' so ya the fuckin' lang'age police now is ya?" he demanded angrily, bits of sandwich raining down on the table. "Wha' the hell's wrong with how _you_ talk?"

"What you mean in full words of more than two syllables?" she snapped back. "Or the accent?" He glared at her, tipping the rest of the Coke down his throat. She sighed, reaching back from her seat to the fridge and extracting another and passing it to him. He nodded once as he took it from her, waiting. "I'm Australian," she said finally, licking her finger and picking up the loose seeds that had fallen from her sandwich. "_Was_ here on holidays – just driving through really, only stopped here because one of the girls wasn't feeling well."

He stilled, the Coke held just below his mouth. "Your family?"

"Dead," she replied. "Dead dead," she added evenly.

"Everyone else?" he asked.

"Dead or evacuated," she replied, taking a sip of her can and seeming to savour it. "The National Guard rolled through here fairly early on, heading to Atlanta where they were setting up a refugee centre. Anyone still alive and not sick was taken away. Except me."

"They left you here alone?" he demanded, inclined to be indignant. (1)

She shrugged. "They said my embassy knew where I was and that they were on the way." Her lips tightened as she stared at the table. "They never made it."

"So ya bin 'lone since then?" he asked.

She nodded. "No-one wants an extra mouth to feed," there was some bitterness in her voice and his eyes narrowed, "so I tend to keep clear of anyone that does come through and encourage them to keep moving."

"How ya do t'at?"

"The families are easy – throw a couple of boxes in a car and leave the keys in it – they figure they've happened upon a goldmine, pile in and drive off in a cloud of dust with never a thought as to whose car they could be stealing." She paused for a moment, "the others bust into a few houses and a few shops – find them all empty and figure the place is picked clean and keep on moving. I had some trouble early on before I managed the clean the place out thoroughly. You're the first person I've seen in a couple of weeks." She looked up at him. "What about you?"

"Me an' me brother got out of 'ome 'head o' it – headed ta Atlanta, found it ova-run with geeks, tha refugee centre a bust." He stopped, seeing her face pale as she closed her eyes for a moment. She swallowed and looked at him again and he continued slowly. "Found a group and holed up wit' 'hem in tha hills for a bit. I split from t'em and headed out on me own, been knockin' around from Atlanta until I got 'ere."

"You meet many people?" she asked, her voice a little faint. _All those people – Mrs Andrews, Jack, Celia, Larry_

"Some," he acknowledged bluntly.

"You didn't think of staying with any of them?" she suggested hesitantly, slightly put off by his tone.

He shook his head and drained his second can. "Too many of t'em thought I was useless cause I only 'ad one hand." _Their mistake._

"How did it happen?"

"Industrial accident," he said shortly.

She eyed him doubtfully, glancing at the stump. The skin was puckered and discoloured – not exactly how she would think an injury would have been patched up before the end of the world. She looked up into his eyes, they had narrowed and she suppressed a chill. "What about your brother?"

The can crushed in his hand, "Never seen 'im since. Went back to wheres I'd left 'im after a while, 'e wasn't t'ere. Sos I made me own way." His tone was harsh. _Fuckin' pussy – left him to die on a roof, eaten by geeks. _The hurt was still raw.

The silence stretched for a couple of minutes, Marion watching his face as it twitched, some unseen anger bubbling under its surface. She was suddenly aware of the sheer brawn strength that he exuded and wondered how tightly leashed it was.

"What now?" she asked finally.

"I got to git me som' transport – then I'll bug out." He craned his neck to the kitchen bench and with a sigh she stood, pulling some more bread from the wrapper and laying a couple of slices of ham on it. "T'ought I'd 'ead up into tha 'ills."

"By yourself?"

"Why not?" he shrugged. "Bin lookin' after meself since I was ten – looked after Daryl when he arrived too – best I could anyways."

She walked back to him, ignoring the way his eyes took in her form, handing him the sandwich. "Is he like you?"

"Darylina?" he scoffed and her eyes frowned at the slur. _He's betta t'an me. 'e can track an' 'unt, plus 'e's smart _he thought, but all he said was "'e's a tough son o' a bitch, a stubborn prick. Anyone goin' ta live t'rough t'is shit, it'll be Daryl." He chewed on his sandwich a little more, watching in space as she finished her drink and then stood to tidy the kitchen. She came back to take his plate and he shook himself mentally. "How much o' t'at food can ya spare?"

She looked at him and smiled.

The door she opened for him this time was on the top storey at the far end away from hers. It was a larger room, two separate rooms plus the bathroom leading off a slightly larger living area and kitchenette. She led him into one of the bedrooms and opened the cupboard door, he stared over her shoulder. There were tins and tins, baked beans in tomato sauce, stockpot soup, corn, peas, carrots, beetroot, peaches, pears, pineapple and a whole heap of others.

"There's some dry goods in the other cupboard," she was saying. "I've had to freeze the milk, juices and the meat – I've got a couple of those good eskies that will keep them for a week or so, but you'd better bulk up on this."

"Freeze?" he queried, his head spinning at the sight of so much food. Even in the camp they didn't have anything like this.

The kitchen of the restaurant was a shambles – there was bowls and utensils all over the floor, a couple of the shelves had been tipped over and cupboard doors were open or hanging off their hinges. "T'ey gave t'is place a workova," commented Merle as he followed her in.

She turned and grinned at him.

He blinked "Ya did t'is?"

She chuckled, nodding. "Yep – took me ages. It's kept the looters out so far," she added. She ducked underneath a drunken steel door – hanging on by one hinge only and Merle's brow rose _Clever and crazy bitch_. The fridge was as warm as the rest of the place – that is to say, stifling, and there was more than a hint of something off but she continued through it to the back. She inserted her fingers into a crack and with a grimace pulled at it. Merle moved in next to her and added his own force to it – although he could only get the tips of his fingers in where hers had gone to the 2nd knuckle – and with a protesting pop of a good seal, the freezer door opened. The blast of cold air hit them in the face and he stepped in, Marion remaining outside holding the door from closing.

The freezer was jam packed with food. A whole shelf was devoted to bread, white wholemeal, multigrain, _even fuckin' linseed_, there was another shelf full of milk _fuckin' soy_, bottles rounded past their rectangular shape as their contents bulged. He turned to another shelf, seeing stacks and stacks of meat, mince, chops, steak, bacon. On another side he saw the pre-prepared meals – roast lamb, _some Italian shit_ and packets of fries. Litres and litres of juice bottles were on other shelves and all sorts of other food. He turned to her with an incredulous stare and she shrugged. "I told you, I've been alone for a while. What do you want for dinner?"

"Do ya hav' any booze?"

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

He hadn't been impressed that she hadn't thought to collect any of the alcohol, Marion mused, humming to herself as she peeled the potato. It was small and there was a slight mark on the edge _I'm using my last fresh vegetables with Jed Clambert_ she thought with a wry smile, then creased her brow _mental note: find out his name_. She glanced at her watch – she'd turned the power off to the microwave too many times to be bothered with fixing the clock, so it was blinking 2am at her when it was well into the afternoon. He'd been gone a while, but he'd taken his shotgun and knives with him and he seemed to be capable, even with one hand so she wasn't yet worried. She looked around at the food – she was actually looking forward to having dinner with him she realised _That's pretty sad Marion_.

A low rumble in the courtyard caught her attention and she dried her hands on the t-towel and stepped to the door, habit making her pause at the corner with her hand on the sword. The now familiar shaven head dismounted from the F350 and she realised that he must have followed her directions to Watkins 4wd and camping. There was a bit of gear in the back that could have been a tent and a sleeping bag.

Merle looked up as he heard her footsteps approach across the courtyard. "Sos wha' does ya reckon?" he asked proudly, stump resting on the bottom of the window. "Right in the yard, all gassed up an' ready ta go."

She was shaking her head, looking over the shiny black vehicle wryly. "You do realise that that thing is going to chew through fuel like you do oxygen? What is it with you Yanks (2) and their trucks?"

"Hey!" and she started to find him very close to her face. "Don't ya eva fuckin' call ol' Merle Dixon a Yank – ya understand bitch?" the anger was palpable in the air

She swallowed, her heart pumping and blood roaring in her ears and stepped back. She waited until he nodded and turned away. "The Civil War ended a long time ago – it's a term of endearment."

"Ain't no term of anyt'ing," he swore, but mildly as he reached over into the tray to get the gear. He dropped it to the ground one after the other – growling as the tent resisted his efforts to lift it with one hand and threatening to scratch the shiny black paint. Marion stepped up on the running bar and grabbed the other end – he almost pulled her over as he yanked the tent over the top of the tray and dropped it to the ground. "It's still us and t'em" he growled.

"Us and them doesn't apply anymore," she refuted. "Except us are the ones alive and them are the ones that are dead." He grunted only and she waited quietly while he looked in and around the cab. "So it's Merle Dixon is it?" she repeated carefully as if uncertain that she had the pronunciation correct.

He looked at her and she held out her hand, her left hand. "G'day, I'm Marion, Marion Arnold."

"Wha' sort of lame excuse for a name is t'at?" he grumbled, but grudgingly took her hand. Her grip was firm and sure, but he dropped it quickly, feeling his loss keenly with that simple action.

Marion shook her head slightly but replied lightly. "What can I say? My father was an optimistic fan of medieval England."

He came back out of the cab of the truck with a scowl. "We even speakin' the same lang'age?"

She laughed lightly. "There are a few duffle bags in 123 – I'll get them out for you and you can load them with some more clothes from 118 to keep you going. Take whatever bedding you want from there as well, I'll open up another room if you need more."

"Sleepin' bag'll do me fine," he said gruffly. "T'anks," he added belatedly, watching her give him a slight wave of acknowledgement as she went to open the door, the white ball of fluff bouncing behind her.

He took pretty much everything that would fit him, even in the mildest Georgian winter (and the recent nights were suggesting it would be more – there'd definitely be some freezing rain and even perhaps some snow. It was the end of the world after all) the cold would be able to do some damage if he couldn't find serious shelter, and everything would swim on her anyway. He packed these into the sleeping space behind the bench seat of the truck and then went into the food rooms. He found a few empty boxes placed out for him and set to filling these with cans and packets of the dry food including pasta and flour. These he loaded into the tray of the truck, covering them with a tarpaulin to minimise the damage that a rainstorm or even a heavy dew could cause. He heard her steps and she approached him carrying a couple of eskies and dragging a big ice box, the fluffy dog still bouncing on her heels. He reached down and grabbed the other handle, gritting his teeth when he thought of how easily he would have been able to swing the whole thing up by himself with two hands, and placed them to his satisfaction in the tray where he could reach them and load them up before leaving.

She came back again with another box and placed it in the back, he frowned and looked in – a couple of frying pans, saucepans, utensils, t-towels and a can opener amongst other stuff. He glanced over to her to see a wry brow lifted, a suggestion of a smile teasing her lips and grudgingly he nodded. _No point having a hundred cans and no fuckin' way to open 'em!_

"That's everything? Except the cold stuff?" asked Marion.

"Gas – I need gas," he shook his head.

"Gas bottles?" she said uncertainly. "You want to BBQ your steak?"

"Well you were the fuckin' Einstein who said I'd need it," he snapped, gesturing to the truck.

Her brow cleared and she laughed. "Oh you mean petrol!"

"Wha?" he frowned at her. "Gas woman – for the car!"

She nodded and tipped her head. He followed her, and the bouncing dog, back around the back of the motel, past the pool to the large shed on the back wall. The door was locked, but the key on her necklace worked for that as well and with a click she slid it open. "They're the batteries – I daresay that they're earthed, but I have made it a point not to get too close to them."

Merle looked at them: he could hear the slight hum of electricity in the confines of the shed and silently agreed with her about keeping his distance. He turned his attention to the other side of the shed as her words continued. "I wasn't always sure what was in them, so I used a new container for every vehicle I found. Some have a lot, some don't have as much. Take what you need."

There were at least thirty large containers in the shed, another two dozen smaller tins and he looked at her: her mouth opened and he cut her off "I know: you've been alone for a while." He picked up a few of the containers, leaning over to crack the lid off one of them and smelling it. He put the lid back on it and turned to another one. This one he lifted and placed behind him. The third and fourth one he took, ignoring another few before he found another two. He picked up a loose hose that was amongst the store, sticking it under his right arm before lifting one of the containers. Marion picked up two of the others, her steps getting shorter and her arms wobbling by the time she had made it back to the car – Merle swearing under his breath all the way with his one container easily supported. He stalked behind her back to the shed and she took one glance at his face as she picked up the 2nd last one and left the last one to him without a word, picking up an empty jerry can in her other hand.

She jumped up in the tray and he lifted the containers up and pushed them to her to line up against the back of the truck, he hitched the rope to the tie bar along the edge of the tray and she threaded it around the containers and back to him. Once he had them tied to his satisfaction he nodded and without thinking she reached out her hand to get some support of the way down. He looked at it and she dropped it, swallowing and jumping down.

"So that's it?" she asked again, smelling her hands and grimacing, wiping them on her pants.

Merle nodded, picking up the tent bundle and dropping it in the back with the sleeping bag following it. "Damn shame that all the weapons were gone from that campin' store. I coulda done wit' some more ammo." He looked at her suddenly and she smiled.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) Phrase borrowed from Georgette Heyer – her context was better. Go on – google her and you'll get a glimpse into why no profiler will ever be able to sort me out.

(2) Hope I have this around the right way, I think I do. And it really is a term of endearment from down here!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_It was like Christmas and his birthday all rolled into one_ he decided as she opened the door. She'd hidden it in the room where the fire had been, anyone looking to loot wouldn't have bothered walking through the ashes and furniture remnants through to where a wall was only 2/3 intact – but on the other side was like a complete armoury. The guns were stacked up against the wall, boxes of ammo sorted by type on the other wall and _a fuckin' display cabinet_ full of knives and other blades. _Explains the broadsword_ he thought. A couple of crossbows caught his attention and for the moment he tried to convince himself that they were a viable weapon for him. He had taught Daryl how to use the bow when he was young, he'd gotten pretty good at it too last Merle had seen him, had taken to bringing food back for the group, mostly squirrels but he'd gone hunting deer on _that_ day. Merle wondered whether he'd got on – whether he was still alive. He shook himself, reaching over into the cabinet to pick up a set of throwing knives – he had to work with what he had. He was a survivor – his pa hadn't managed to kill him, neither had any of his stints in juvie, boot camp or military prison. Damned if he would let the geeks or the other scum that now roamed the world do it.

Marion watched him as he searched through the rifles until he found one with a scope that fit from his left hand to right shoulder with some type of comfort. _He looked almost professional. _She glanced at the stump – there was some remnant of a tattoo. _Military or gang_ she wondered. He pointed to the boxes of bullets and she shook herself, bending over them, looking for the ones that matched the numbers that he rattled off. By the time she had four types of boxes she rocked back on her heels and looked at him "Are you intending to re-start the Civil War?"

He gave a reluctant snort of laughter. "I ain't one to pass up on an oppo'tunity this good," he replied. "I ain't seen these type of weapons since 'fore I left Atlanta." He cast a glance over his pile and added another couple of smaller weapons.

Marion sighed "I'll get another duffle bag."

He turned his head as she left the room "Bring that blade back wit' ya."

Her brows quirked, but she did so and after he had finished loading up the bag watched him as they sat in the sun, the blade across his knees as he ground out the chip that the mortar wall had made with a whet stone. He cursed often as his stump got in the way or didn't do what he wanted, but persisted through sheer stubbornness. He looked up and saw her watching intently. "Come 'ere," he said suddenly.

"What?" she replied uncertainly.

"Come 'ere," he repeated. "You do the other side – it ain't that bad but I'll make sure that ya doin' it right."

Marion sighed inwardly in relief _What did you think he wanted you for you twit_ and scooted over next to him. He kicked up his chin and she scooted further, swallowing as he put his legs either side of her and pulled up close to her back so he could reach around her. His mouth was right next to her cheek and she shook herself inwardly as he instructed her in the use of the whet stone. Again the absence of his right hand frustrated him when he wasn't able to use his hands to correct her hold and had to use his words, but after almost an hour he announced himself satisfied that she might actually be able to cut something with the edge she had made and he pushed her away to start inspecting the guns.

It took him about an hour until he had all the guns loaded and ready, except for the safeties, to go. Those that had magazines he filled, those without he put as many bullets as would fit inside the barrels. It was warm in the sun and he was sweating lightly by the time he had finished. He looked over to her and paused – she had been watching him, asking him questions about range and power at the start but she had been silent for a while and he now realised why. She was still seated upright, her legs stretched out before her, but her head had fallen against the wall of the building and she was breathing slowly and steadily, asleep in the sun with her hand still buried in the dog's coat. Her face had relaxed in sleep, losing that slightly haunted look that was always in the background. She was within an arm's distance and for a moment he was tempted to reach out and stroke her face, but then he shook himself _She's just some dumb broad_ although even he decided that perhaps dumb wasn't fair. She had set herself up real good here, she had food, she had shelter, she even had a measure of security. _Until ol' Merle came along_ added an inner sneer. With a sigh he stood – the dog's head lifted slightly and he pressed his finger to his lips "shh" – and headed up the stairs.

She was deluding herself, he thought as he manhandled the bodies one by one out to the back gate, the world was getting more dangerous even if the geeks were slowly disappearing (and that was debatable) –food was already difficult to come by and what with winter approaching, there could be no addition until those that knew how to grow stuff could do so in spring and summer. Until then those that were left would be ransacking wherever they could – it would only take one of her rooms being found and they would go through this place like a summer storm and damned to the people in their way. Food was a valuable commodity, as were weapons – or whatever could be traded for them, such as a pretty woman like her. He'd seen it happen, hell he'd even been party to similar things – although not slaves, he wasn't into that sort of shit.

She was different to anyone else that he'd met. Sure she'd run from him to start with _hell I'd run from me_ he thought, but she'd saved him from the men when she could have just stayed hidden, she'd fed him, she'd shared her cache of supplies. _She'd trusted him_ he realised, not knowing any reason why she should. And here he was, getting ready to up and leave her with nothing.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Marion heard the groan and frowned, placing the cup back down on the bench. "Rachel – honey are you ok?" she called, stepping out of the kitchen towards the bedroom. Another moan sounded and her step faltered "Rachel?" She called out again as a figure limped towards her, stepping into the light.

Marion sat up suddenly, the scream in her dream still echoing in her ears. Dog growled on her lap.

"Well well, it seems sleepin' beauty is awake," drawled a voice and she blinked, focusing her eyes up to him. He was standing in front of her, in kicking distance and she realised why her foot had moved slightly.

"What time is it?" she moaned, rubbing her eyes.

Merle squinted up in the sky. "'Bout 'alf three."

She laughed at him. "You're kidding right?" she pulled her sleeve up to look at her watch and paused. "Fair enough I suppose," she rolled over slightly and pushed herself up to feet, much to the discontent of Dog, turning back to him.

"T'at blade ya only weapon?"

She nodded. "I used the gun in the beginning, but it caused more troubles than it fixed. I figured the sword didn't take much technique when dealing with the dead – plus it's silent. That's the first time I've used it on the living," she added.

"Ya know 'ow ta fire one of t'ese?" he asked, bringing the weapon from behind his back.

"Cross bow training wasn't in my curriculum," she said dryly.

"Is t'at a fuckin' yes or no?" he demanded.

She suppressed a grin. "No."

"I'll give you the basics," he said, thrusting it at her. "It's a bit heavy for you, but it's still quiet and you can keep some distance between you and them – whether they be alive or not."

She held the weapon uncertainly – it was quite heavy in her arms and she doubted her ability to handle it. She also had another doubt but was not sure how to express it. He saw her look and shoved a quiver full of bolts at her with almost a growl "I can still show ya 'ow to use it even if I can't meself."

He took her around the back, showing her where he had set up a rudimentary target. She blanched slightly when she saw a blackened pile of ashes near the wall _explains the smell in the air. _"Pull that string back until it latches – then...," he paused, watching with growing frustration as she attempted to do what he asked. The bow was new, had never been used and wasn't really meant for a woman (or young man) to use. She swore under her breath and his brow quirked slightly _so she wasn't quite the prissy miss perfect_ as the string slipped from her fingers and she stuck them in her mouth, looking up at him. "'ere, you hold it." She frowned, but only after a moment realised what he was doing as he stepped toward her and with his left hand pushed at the string. She stumbled despite having braced herself and leant in harder, the crossbow braced against her chest, her shoulders almost against his. Merle over stretched the string a few times, feeling it loosen and trying to ignore the slight contact between his knuckles and her chest at each stretch. He nodded and let the string go – she stumbled again, the crossbow dipped down to the ground and she landed on his chest.

Marion bounced back off him, dipping her head to hide the flush at the feel of the full body contact, waiting for the lewd comment. Nothing came and she flashed a glance up at him. "Try it now," he ordered gruffly. Marion obeyed, finding the string stiff but moveable. "Latch it in," he continued with the instruction, "now put the bolt in t'ere, and t'ere. Now – brace yourself, the kickback's a bitch."

She picked up the crossbow and held it awkwardly , bracing it hard against her shoulder – he came up close behind her, his length close to her but not quite touching her as he used his left hand to shape hers and the right stump to nudge her right hand into place. His leg snaked under hers and she flinched, but he merely kicked her legs into a wider stance, pushing her left foot forward. His breath tickled her ear as he eyed up her aim and instructed her breathing. "Ya have to open ya eyes," he grunted at her and they flew open _Get a GRIP Marion_ she snapped inwardly and released the trigger.

Despite his precautions the recoil pushed her hard into him – the bolt went wide by a mile – and he pushed her off him _again_ and lined her up once more, this time kicking her legs a bit wider to help with the recoil. "Again."

Her proximity was driving him crazy, Merle shook his head. Of course any piece of tail would look good after the drought that he'd had, but he'd already had a tease of her body and he almost jumped out of his skin when she bounced in excitement, her butt scraping up his groin, as her fifth arrow landed around about the target's shoulder. "Ya only slowed it down girl," he growled, more gruffly than he intended and she subsided. "Ya gotta hit the brain to kill 'em". He leant forward again and placed his hand on her hip, pushing it lightly over.

Finally he nodded as the bolt landed, if not quite in the centre of the paper target, at least only a handsbreath away.

"Ya keep on practicin' – ya'll get it," he announced.

Marion flexed her fingers, the tips bright red and all of them aching. She glanced up at him ruefully "If my fingers will work again."

"Ya oughta git some gloves," he advised. "Protect 'em until they git callouses."

"Oh joy," she said faintly, grimacing as she carried the crossbow. He reached over and took it from her, knowing that her arms would be aching as well with carrying the unfamiliar weight. She smiled at him briefly. "It's getting dark – I'll get some dinner started."

He nodded, shouldering the crossbow to pick up the used bolts and then walking out to where the gates were still wedged open. It took some doing, but he managed to get them back into a semblance of security, latching the lock on the chain, as the smell of cooking steak wafted down to him and he stalked back up to her room. The dog growled at him as he entered and Marion softly admonished the animal, humming slightly to herself as she worked over the bench and stove. Merle eased past her, reaching into the fridge to grab himself a Coke, noting that she'd refilled the fridge with them, sitting down with his legs stretched out in front of him. He let out a loud belch "Fuckin' best thing I smelt since the outbreak." Slowly he became aware that she had stopped work and was looking at him somewhat expectantly. "Wha'?"

"Perhaps you could find something useful to do?" she suggested.

"Cookin' is bitches work," he replied.

"It amazes me then that you have ever had a meal then," she sniffed.

He looked at her sharply, but there wasn't even a hint of a smile as she looked back steadily at him. He glared at her for a moment – her brow lifted – and with a grunt he dropped his can to the table and pushed his chair back with a slight squeal. He closed the door _probably should fix tha' lock too _and pulled the curtains shut before turning on lamps that she had placed around the table. He then made his way into the kitchen and opened a couple of drawers until he found the utensils. He threw them on the table and started rummaging in the pantry, extracting the salt and pepper. He swore slightly at not finding hot sauce and turned – she held the necklace with the key towards him. "Get some more peas too will you please?"


	6. Chapter 6

For those who have wondered (and apparently some of you have) – no, Marion is not named after me. She is so much cooler than I could ever be.

Chapter 6

"So if ya were on holiday – 'ow come ya got 'im?" Merle asked after he had scraped every dreg off the plate, including the vegetables – damn if they hadn't tasted almost as good as the steak.

Marion looked up from feeding the dog a couple of scraps. "He's is a bit ridiculous isn't he?" she reached down to pat the dog's head as if in apology. "But he's small, he doesn't eat much _and_ he's picky about what he eats," she said in a dry tone full of meaning. "Plus he's a great little watchdog. He must be able to smell the dead, maybe he can hear them, but he stopped me getting attacked when Ben... when my husband turned." She swallowed and looked up with slightly burry eyes. "The Guard wouldn't take him, Mrs Andrews asked me to look after him for her. Since then he's shadowed me, let me know whenever anyone – dead or alive is about." _Except you_ she thought ruefully.

"What happened to all the dead? I ain't seen a geek since I got 'ere."

"The National Guard shot any that were around when they rolled through," she shrugged, reaching over and picking up his plate. "But after a few days I had gathered a bit of a crowd at the gate– so I found Mr Watkins' store and did a few rounds. The town wasn't that big to start with, some had left, the National Guard had dealt with most of the rest one way or another – that left me only a couple hundred."

"So where are all the bodies?" he wondered after a small pause as he processed the nonchalance that she mentioned having put down about 200 geeks, picking up the bottle for another drink. Her eyes narrowed slightly, she hadn't been all that surprised when he had returned from the food larder with not only the hot sauce and the requested peas _credit where credit is due _but also a bottle of whiskey – something he must have found when he had picked up the car. He had made it a good half of the way through and while his face was marginally redder and his voice was getting louder, he exhibited no other signs of drunkenness.

"I buried them," she shrugged and he put the bottle down suddenly. "Not by hand! I crashed the excavator a couple of times, but got the hang of it after a while. What else did I have to do?"

"So why stay?" he asked, taking another swig. "Aren't ya lonely?"

"A little," she admitted with a slight smile. "But where else would I go?"

"Ya could come wit'me," he said, then blinked in surprise at what had come out of his mouth.

She looked at him in as much surprise. _It must be the alcohol talking_ she decided. "Really?" she asked, curious.

He shrugged, taking another swig. "Ya can cook, ya can wash clothes, ya body ain't too bad. A bit o' company to keep me warm at night."

Her eyes lit with amusement. "That's an amazing offer Merle," his eyes narrowed at her. "But no, my family are here and," she added in a slightly more upbeat tone "this is where the government knows I am. If they ever do come looking for me..."

"From wha' I hear, no-one goin' to come lookin'" he said bluntly, more put out that she had declined than he was prepared for.

She nodded. "Maybe – but I haven't got too bad a place here."

"Wha' happens when another crew comes through and strips this place bear?" he quizzed _why persist? The bitch said no!_

"I've got more eggs than in this basket," she replied serenely, standing and collecting the plates. "This is the most comfortable place to be sure, but if needs be I have another three places in town I can go to."

He looked at her for a few moments. "Ya a piece o' work, ya know?"

She dropped a curtsey "Why thankyou kind sir!"

Marion washed and dried the dishes; Merle worked on the door, finding Bo's tools to reattach the locking mechanism to the door. It wasn't a one handed job and he swore under his breath continuously as the chisel jagged, the screwdriver slipped and the screws dropped to the ground. She didn't offer to help him, something that perversely angered him although he knew his first reaction would be to yell at her for thinking he needed help. He cast a glance at her now and then, hearing her humming to herself as she washed, breaking into song, albeit quiet, as she dried and cleaned up the benches.

"Wha' the hell is t'at?" he demanded finally, the tune sounding eerily familiar.

She started, looking over at him and giving him an embarrassed smile. "Mary Poppins."

He frowned "With those penguins in waiters' gear?" the memory finally popped into his head.

She nodded, slightly surprised that he knew it. He saw it and shrugged "Mum gave it me when I was a kid – we watched it together, it kinda stuck in me 'ead."

"I only ever saw it on TV, Mum must have bought me the record though because I used to sit and listen to it over and over, memorised a few of the songs. Used to sing Feed the Birds to Rachel," Merle recognised the name she had yelled from her sleep but said nothing, "and Jenny when they were young – used to stop them crying and ease them to sleep. A few years ago I took Rachel to a stage production, some of the songs were different – good – but different and I never quite managed to get them memorised as well as the earlier ones." She paused. "I found it at the Williams' house – haven't quite managed to watch it yet."

"They were your kids?"

She nodded. "Rachel was 9, Jenny was 5. Capricious little angels, not a bad bone in their bodies – although full to brim with mischief – Jenny especially. Rachel was a gentler soul – I had it over her, but Jenny," she snorted, "she was a determined little madam, you couldn't make her do anything she didn't want to do." She sniffed, turning suddenly to switch the electric jug on. He thought that was it, but then she started again. "They were so excited about being here, heading to Florida to go to Disney Land – or is it Disney World," she shrugged. "Then Rachel started to feel sick, so we pulled in here."

Merle watched her spooning ingredients and then pouring water into the cup. "How'd it all happen?"

"Rachel first – she got sick. I'd left her alone for a while – maybe an hour. It looked like she was sleeping peacefully. I was in the kitchen when she came out – she'd turned." She paused, taking a sip from the cup. "And found her sister sleeping next to her." Merle winced – no wonder her dreams had been so bad, he could imagine what she'd seen. "She came out to me – I screamed and Ben came running in. He grabbed her from behind – she put her mouth right down on his arm and ripped a chunk out of his arm," she recounted in a curiously absent tone. She shook herself and walked out of the kitchen, past him and perched against the building next to the frame. She was less than a metre away from him as she continued. "Ben got sick then, we watched the news together as his fever grew worse and worse – the other guests barricaded me in. Jenny turned on the second day – I came out of the bathroom and there she was – only as high as my waist, trying to rip out my jugular. Ben begged me then to kill him – not to risk it. But I couldn't," he could hear tears in her voice now. "I couldn't. I told him that he was going to get better – that he wouldn't leave me all alone in this god forsaken country with no-one. I was with him when he died – he gave a final shudder and just stopped breathing. I stayed with him for a whole day, laid next to him with my eyes closed, hoping..."

Merle grimaced. He knew what she'd been hoping for – that she'd be taken. He didn't agree _hell_ he looked at his stump _see what lengths he went to to stay alive_ but he understood it.

"He didn't wake – I thought, fine, he's dead. I went to the door – I begged them to at least give me something to eat – it had been a couple of days. They opened the door – three of them, two holding guns on me while the other threw me a backpack with some food in it. That's when I grabbed Dog – I said I would eat him if they didn't let me out. They slammed the door on me – Mrs Andrews screaming at me." She snorted. "Of course I was never going to do it – I shared the food with the bloody mutt." Who was of course sitting right next to her and she buried her hand in his hair, stroking it back and forth. "I'd fallen asleep – it was the first full belly I'd had for a while and I was tired after staying up with Ben. I never even heard him – but Dog did. He growled and then barked – then he bit me. I moved then – jumped out of the way. Dog kept him occupied while I banged on the door – screamed for help. They just stood there."

"You put them all down?" he said quietly and she nodded. _With what _he wondered but didn't ask. He moved around to sit next to her, the bottle in his hand.

She snorted again. "That's an appropriate term isn't it, like they were some dumb animal in pain."

"That's what they were Marion," he used her name for the first time but neither of them really noticed. "They died with the fever – that wasn't them."

"It sure felt like it was" she whispered. His shoulder was temptingly close to her head and she leaned into it, half expecting his arm to come up and over her _like Ben's would have_ but he wasn't her husband and his arm stayed still. But neither did it move and she stayed there for several moments, drawing comfort from a human presence – even one so emotionally closed as Merle. After a while his arm twitched and she sat up suddenly, afraid that she had offended him – but he merely lifted the bottle to his mouth and took a swig. He offered it to her and she smiled slightly, shaking her head and lifting up her cup. "I'm right thanks."

"T'at's fuckin' weak smelling coffee," he growled, the spot on his shoulder still warm from where her head had been. She chuckled and he looked at her, taking the cup she offered and taking a small sip. He gagged. "Wha' tha fuck is t'at?" he demanded.

Marion rescued her cup from him with a giggle. "Chocolate," she replied, tipping the remainder down her throat. "We all have our crutches – yours is that – mine is chocolate. What about your family?"

"Ain't much to talk 'bout. Mum took off after Daryl was born – Pa beat the shit outta me until I was big enough that he moved onto Daryl – then I got bigga and he couldn't do that eit'er – 'cept when I was doin' stints in juvie." He shrugged. "Never finished school – spent most of me life in tha woods near 'ome. or, 'angin' out wit' me buddies doin' shit."

"Exact opposite to mine," she noted _explains the scars, internal as well as external_. "I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth – had the best schools, anything and everything that I wanted and some I didn't. They even paid my way through uni," he cast her a look "you'd call it college I think. Four years of it, never had to work for anything until I finished. Then got a good job – met my husband, married, kids, had the horses and the dogs – the whole picket fence thing. Then we came here for holidays."

"Well I ne'er had a job t'at lasted more than a mont', no trade ta speak of – alt'ough I can turn me 'and to almost anyt'ing," he indicated the fixed lock with a jerk of his head. "No-one e'er wanted ol' Merle – I's 'ad to do it all meself."

"And yet here we both are – the uneducated redneck hick with one hand and attitude."

"And the hoighty toighty foreign bitch with a stick up her ass," he finished.

She giggled. "Ass is a donkey like animal – I think you mean arse."

He took another swig. "I told ya – we don't speak tha same lang'age."

It was late when he finally dragged himself up off the floor, the bottle empty and her third cup of _fuckin' _chocolate finished next to her. He wasn't real sure what they'd talked about – well she'd talked, he'd mostly just let it wash over him – but it had been, _well hell_ it had been pleasant. He frowned as he did a perimeter search – making sure that there was no way in to the complex – working his way through a second bottle. He'd moved the skip bin earlier in the day, but he checked the gates and looked over the wall from the verandah to make sure that there'd been no movements. It was all as quiet as Christmas Eve was meant to be.

He came up the stairs and froze, hearing a growl. He lowered the bottle to the floor and pulled the knife out of his belt, advancing slowly. He lifted up the blade and stepped around the corner.

Marion squealed and threw herself backwards.

"Fuckin' hell woman, wha' are ya doin' out here?" he demanded, putting his knife back in his sheaf. "You shut it mutt!" he added to the small dog still growling at him.

"Dog!" she said sharply and the growls subsided. She straightened back up and slapped Merle on the chest "You scared the shit out of me!"

"Ooh – you watch that potty mouth girly," he growled.

"I was coming to look for you," she explained.

"So where's ya weapon?" he demanded, looking her up and down in appreciation _Damn but she had a good body on her_.

She blinked – she hadn't even thought of it _why hadn't she thought of it?_ Feeling a little confused she gestured at his gun, "you were out here – you have a gun."

"You reckon my weapon's big enough for you do you?" he murmured huskily.

Marion blinked at the sudden change of tack, catching sight of the second bottle and narrowing her eyes, trying to assess his sobriety. "You're right Merle, I should have my own weapon."

"I can lend you mine," he confided, leaning in and breathing in deeply. She smelled sweet.

_Not much_ she decided, blinking at the overpowering smell of whiskey. "Time for bed," she announced.

"Now we're speakin' tha same lang'age sweet'heart," he applauded as he reached for the bottle, stepping up next to her to put her within the circle of his left arm.

"No, actually I don't think we are," she said firmly, extracting herself out from his arms and skipping ahead of him to her room.

"Come on sugartits – t'ere's enough room for two in the bed." He followed her to her doorway.

She nodded, smiling sweetly, one hand on the frame while the other was on the door. "There is, isn't there." He took a step. "For me and Dog, and you and your hand."

He flung up his arm to halt her door's closing. "How about you and me?" he urged. "Fuck the dog.,".

"Goodnight Merle," she said firmly, both hands pushing at the door – not quite afraid yet but definitely concerned – but he was almost casually holding it open.

"Oh it will be," he agreed, reached in and dragged her hard against him, dropping his mouth onto hers. His kiss was hard and demanding, his hand running down over the small of her back to her butt and squeezing firmly, pulling her hips hard into his so that she could feel his body's reaction. He pulled at her lips, pushing with his tongue to gain entrance into her mouth, desperately wanting to taste her.

Marion stayed passive, remembering his body's reaction when she had fought him; refusing to engage him. His head lifted and he looked at her in frustration.

"Goodnight Merle," she said, softly this time.

He glared at her for a moment. It was like trying to get it on with a blow up doll – everything was in the right place but there was just no spark. She stared back at him limply. "Fuckin' prick tease," he growled, almost throwing her away from him before stalking off to his room.

Marion leaned against her door, almost holding her breath as he walked around the edge of her room, past her windows and she heard his door open and close. There were a few slight noises and then she heard a groan as he landed on the bed. A few more minutes passed and then a series of melodic snores started – she sighed in relief and walked into her bedroom, where she undressed and climbed into the bed. She picked up her camera and turned it on, looking at the faces in the last picture she had taken all those weeks ago. They smiled back at her and she placed the camera on the pillow next to her, staring at them as they became fuzzy until the camera shut down to save power and she eventually fell asleep.

Dog turned around on the spot a couple of times and then sat down, his head on his paws with his ears pricked – watching the door.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Marion heard the groan and frowned, placing the cup back down on the bench. "Rachel – honey are you ok?" she called, stepping out of the kitchen towards the bedroom. Another moan sounded and her step faltered "Rachel?" She called out again as a figure limped towards her, stepping into the light – the front of her shirt soaked in blood. "Rachel honey – what happened darling – did you have a nosebleed?" she stepped forward out of the kitchen, stepping sideways to see what mess had been made in the bedroom.

Marion sat up gasping for breath. Dog whined at her and she lay back down again, grasping at her hair with both hands until the pain radiating from her skull overbore that emanating from inside her. Dog whined again, jumping up on the bed and licking at her face until she had to let go of her hair just to grab him and push him down. She rolled on her side and he settled, her hands changed their grip and she stroked him gently. She gave a large sigh "another night, another nightmare," she said quietly. She looked up at the window – there was a suggestion of light filtering through the blinds. She gave another sigh and rolled up, swinging her legs out knowing that she wouldn't get back to sleep again. For a moment she sat, remembering the day before – she couldn't hear anymore snores, but she was hesitant to get into the shower in case the noise woke him up. She padded out to the room and cast a glance at the exercise dvds that she had accumulated. _Dancerise is a no_ she decided, it had been fun but she didn't think that it would be such a good move if Merle happened to wake up when she was in full gyration again – especially after last night. Feeling slightly empowered by the crossbow work the day before she pulled out a boxercise routine; being mindful of the noise she lowered the volume slightly before hitting the play button.

A few seconds made her realise that crossbows required the use of stomach muscles – stomach muscles that she never knew that she had. Five minutes of the workout had her convinced that despite all her other workouts that her arm muscles weren't quite up to scratch. She finished the session with her hands by her sides and with a light sweat – _at least her cardio had improved out of sight since the end of the world_. She looked at the clock and rubbed at her chin thoughtfully – it was still before 7, he'd drunk a lot of whiskey the night before, it was likely his head was sore. She grabbed the broadsword and, after a slight hesitation, the crossbow and with Dog bouncing at her feet slid quietly out the door and along the verandah on the opposite side to his room.

The morning was fresh and she shivered as she walked with a purpose along the back streets _all five of them_ she thought with a grin although slightly unjustly. The town was small, but it did used to have about thousand people and they had spread out, their large country style houses set unnaturally (to her eyes anyway) off the street so that she was a good hundred metres off the neighbouring main street. Dog bounced around her, clearly happy to be out and about again, darting this way and that as the neighbourhood squirrels bounded away in their final search for winter food. A neighbourhood cat paused in its hunt, Dog froze and then darted off in a flurry, the cat hissed once and Dog skidded to a halt, spinning to put Marion between him and the cat and gave a defiant bark. Marion laughed and waved her hand at the cat – which spun and vanished, having learnt to be scared of people in these days – "Oh what a ferocious Dog," she laughed again as Dog looked pleased with himself.

The chickens clucked as she arrived and she opened their cage onto the bedraggled lawn before stepping into a wire covered garden, wandering around, looking through the plants for anything that looked like it could still be edible. The chickens descended onto the greenery like savages after she had decided that there was not and she laughed at the rooster, clucking to his hens about the delectable grubs. With them occupied she bent over into the coop, using the shovel to clean the worst of the droppings out and into the garden – the chickens scattering as the droppings landed – before filling the containers with seed and water and hunting amongst the lawn clippings for some eggs. These she deposited in her jacket, "chick, chick" she called, opening and then stepping through a small neighbourly gate in the side fence to the next garden, the chickens following closely on her heels and scratching at the lawn while she looked through what was left of that vegetable garden. She threw them a couple of rotten tomatoes that she found; there was a flurry of feathers and squawking and she watched with a grin as the victorious hen ran around the yard with three of her fellows following her – surely using up more calories than the tomato was ever going to give back.

She found herself humming as she continued through the gardens, finding some small amount of produce that hadn't yet spoiled or been taken by animals. The chickens clucked contently behind her, following her through gates where there was one, flapping over the top or squeezing through a hole after Dog where there was none. They kept close to her as she crossed over the road and made her way back through the gardens – _the Pied Piper_ she thought with an inward grin.

"Haven't you left yet Tweety?" she asked as she approached one verandah, bending over to where small bird sat in its cage despite her having wedged the door open and a container of seed and water sitting on the bench. "They're gone mate – they're not coming back. It's time to move on." The bird sat there miserably and she dug into her pockets to find a couple of loose seeds from the chickens and put them in his cage. His head twitched but he didn't move. She sighed.

The chickens clustered about her feet as she opened the last gate and headed out to the road again. A deep growl stopped her in her tracks and she grasped the broadsword firmly. Dog growled in response, his tiny hackles up and looking for all the world like a toilet brush. The German Sheppard growled again, but while his hackles were up his tail was between his legs. Marion felt a bit sorry for the animal, knowing that he'd been forever confused by his owner trying to eat him, but kept her sword pointed at him "get them across Dog," and the chickens followed as Dog crossed the road, Marion following slowly keeping an eye on the Sheppard who twitched but never actually made a move. The chickens went willingly into their coop, pecking at the seed with a vengeance and Marion double checked the latches before turning away. The Sheppard had vanished by the time she came back out and Dog bounced off happily, so she relaxed slightly as she headed back to the _Palace_.

Her door was closed, and she opened it carefully in case she startled him, but her room was empty. She frowned, glancing at the clock but then shrugged. She'd pegged him for an early riser but it _had_ been a full bottle of whiskey (plus whatever of the other he'd drunk), although when he still wasn't up after her shower she considered going and knocking on his door. She shrugged, figuring that the smells of breakfast would rouse him and moved into the kitchen. She found herself humming an abstract little tune and frowned, repeating it to herself as she tried to place it. It came to her and she chuckled, cracking eggs into the pan around the bacon, she remembered seeing the movie in someone's place _where had it been?_ At the time she had decided that watching a movie about two man-eating lions all by herself was not conducive to good nerves _although it wouldn't be scarier than reality_. Briefly she wondered if perhaps Merle would delay his departure long enough to watch it with her, surely a movie with lots of blood and gore would be right down his alley, _but then again_ she thought, he was likely not above trying to take advantage of a girl huddling up to him. _Bugger it _she decided, after he left she would go and get it. _It did have Val Kilmer in it after all_.

The smell of the bacon was overwhelming and she frowned, looking at Dog. "Where is he? Do you think he might be sick?" Another thought came to her "Perhaps he's angry at me?" She reached over and turned off the pan, putting the lid over the sizzling food and wiping her hands on the towel. "He's got no right to be Dog," she said firmly as she walked to the door. "What just because I don't feel like being groped by a pissed redneck hick, fuck it Dog – a few weeks ago _no, it was a few months ago _I was still married." She marched around the verandah to his door and rapped on it. "Merle! Merle – breakfast. Merle Dixon!" There was nothing and she put her hand to the handle, and found it locked. "What?" she looked down and her breath caught.

The silver chain hung loosely over the handle, the silver key knocking softly against the wood. She picked it up and with almost trembling hands unlocked the door. The scent of sandalwood competed with the smell of whiskey in the room, the covers were wrinkled – he had obviously not actually made it under them last night – but there was no actual sign of him. She turned around quickly, looking into the main courtyard – it was empty. His truck was gone, the gate was again locked.

He'd left her.

_Without even a goodbye._

For a moment she stayed still, staring at the empty courtyard. Then she sighed – what had she expected after all? He'd said that he was going, _crikey _she'd helped him pack for it. He'd asked her to go with him – but she'd said no. So he'd left. She had no right to feel this, this _betrayed_. It wasn't like he'd left just because she hadn't slept with him.

She took a deep breath and wandered back towards her room, pausing for a moment to lock the door of the room he had used before entering her room. She'd cooked far too much of course for just her, at the end of it she was feeling grossly stuffed and even Dog collapsed with a heavy sigh and a swollen belly. She eyed with some amusement, humming to herself as she scraped the fat off the plates and washed up the dishes. It was still relatively early in the morning when she finished and she allowed herself to mull over a cup of chocolate for almost half an hour in the sun before she stood up with some purpose, grabbing both the sword and the bow and heading down to the rear of the property. She gritted her teeth against the pain and kept firing bolts until two hit the head of the target. She collapsed with a groan but straightened up after a few moments, placing the bow down and picking up the sword. Her muscles protested, but these moves were familiar now and she was able to finish the routine. She was sweaty again, but while the thought of having a shower appealed she refused to give in to what she decided constituted waste.

She wandered around the motel, closing up the cupboards and doors that he had left open, selecting something to have for dinner and readjusting her calculations for how many meals she had left. She gathered up her dirty clothes from the last week and wandered down the few rooms to where the washing machine was situated. She occupied herself with cleaning the bathroom he had used, shaking her head over men and toilets _some things cross all international boundaries apparently. _She had a light lunch – not really hungry after her large breakfast, but wanting to maintain some normality to her life _such that it was nowadays _while the machine ran its course, then grabbed the washing basket and filled it with the clothes and hoisted it onto her hip. She looked at the sword and the crossbow, juggling the basket, and bent down to pick up the bow. She slung it over her shoulder, leaving the sword propped against the wall as she made her way out to where she had slung a line, humming to herself and Dog bouncing at her side.

She was half way through hanging the washing when Dog growled. She froze, her arms still up and looked down at him – he had moved away from her a bit, he was tense, his ears pricked and looking towards the front of the complex. He growled again, low and threatening. She dropped her arms, reaching for the crossbow and scuttling back to the wall of the motel. She peeked around the wall and her eyes lit up at the sight of a black truck rolling in through the open gates. "Merle," she said softly. Dog growled again, "ssh Dog – it's alright." She walked around the side of the building along the footpath, the crossbow against her thigh, a smile teasing at her lips.

Then the door opened and a man stepped out, his mouth stretching in appreciation at the sight of her. She froze in horror.

Not Merle.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The geeks frothed at the mouth, pushing harder and harder at the door which banged ominously under their pressure. They were coming. It was only a matter of time. He looked at the hacksaw, at the cuffs which it hadn't been able to make a dent in. The roar of the geeks faded into the background behind his breathing and pumping of his blood. He grabbed his belt in his teeth and yanked it tight. He placed the blade on the skin and using all the force he could muster, he dragged the blade back.

Merle sat up suddenly, breathing deep and pain radiating from his right arm. Consciousness finally overcame the sleep and the pain faded back into memory, leaving only a stale taste in his mouth and a slight hint of a hangover. He glanced up at the window – there was a slight suggestion of light, _before dawn then._

He groaned slightly, rolling himself to a seated position and grabbing his head with a hand and stump. He snorted up the phlegm from his throat and walked into the bathroom. It was sometime before he walked back out again and reached down to put his boots back on. He paused for a few moments, listening for any noise next door – but there was nothing. _Probably still asleep_ he thought. It had been a big day for her after all – getting chased by him, having to cut someone in half, helping him pack the car, the crossbow practice _and then having to hold him off_. He shook his head _covered in glory again hey big brother_ he could hear Daryl's sneer.

She'd be pissed at him, he'd cussed at her, called her something that she wasn't. He'd been so damn _uncivilised_.

He opened the door cautiously, carefully looking at the corner of the building. Her curtains were still shut, there was no movement and he made his way down to the kitchen, using the key that she had given him the night before to open the doors. The sun was well and truly up by the time that he had finished moving the cold food into the eskies that she had helped him load into the car – he figured it a bit after 7. He used the same key to unlock the gate and moved the car from the yard to outside. _He could keep driving_ he thought, but then that would leave her open, plus she needed the key back. He sighed _he'd have to face her_. He walked back up the stairs and along the verandah, taking a deep breath _Ya pussy _said his brother's voice, and he knocked on the door.

Nothing.

He gritted his teeth – she had to know it would be him.

He knocked again, this time with a bit more force.

Even the dog wouldn't respond.

_Well fuck 'er_ he decided. Yes he'd been out of line the night before, but it's not like he'd forced her into anything, he'd just asked the question. If he wanted to be a prissy bitch then so be it. He turned on his heel, pacing down the verandah, stopping only briefly to throw the necklace around his door handle. He stalked through the gate and then stopped _Fuck_ and pulled the gate closed, grimacing as he forced his hand through the grill on the gate to lock up the padlock again. He started the truck with almost a roar, still there was no reaction. _Damn stupid bitch_ he thought and engaged the drive.

There were cars everywhere as he exited the town's outer limits – some parked neatly on the side – some banged up as if they had been in an accident _where the National Guard had come through_ he realised. The resultant channel was easy enough to negotiate, but still was slow going as it threaded in and out around the larger of the cars. There were bodies too – some collapsed over the steering wheels, some half hanging out of the windows, some piled in heaps in between cars _National Guard again_ thought Merle, dispassionately. They'd obviously cleaned this out by hand – troops clearing out the geeks before the trucks pushed through for the convoy to follow. Probably had a whole bunch of people trailing along after them, heads down, faces streaked with tears, bags that carried their worldly possessions over their shoulders – a sad train of humanity.

He paused at an intersection _It's only a tourist map, what it calls minor roads will probably still be highways – but it should give you enough to get where you are headed _she'd told him, handing him the map. There was indeed more of the paper covered with advertisements for motels, dude ranches and farmstays than there was map – but it gave him a general idea. He wasn't sure yet where he wanted to go _Ya not gettin' all sentimental is ya big brother?_ queried his inner voice. _I'm going to find ya, ya pussy_ he replied _even if it is only to kick ya ass all t'rough tha week for leaving up on that fuckin' roof and takin' off wit' those bastards. _Although not all of them – there'd been a lot of graves and a big pile of ashes at their campsite. But Daryl's truck and his bike had gone _Will be wantin' that back li'l bro, Why – how ya goin' to ride it?_ so he knew that Daryl had made it, no-one else would have been stupid _brave?_ enough to touch any of his stuff. Had left the CDC as well – or what was left of it. _Must be a story t'ere_ he thought. The smoke was still rising from the crater and he knew he was a few days behind them when he got there. But they'd not left a note at the CDC, he had no idea where they'd go. _What would ya do li'le brother – would ya stick wit' t'em – or would ya git off by yaself? "_Where the fuck would ya go?" he said out loud. _Why do ya care?_ wondered the voice. "Blood is blood. I looked after ya as good as I could." He ignored the derisive laughter in his head. "Ya my kin – kin's all we got t'ese days." The inner voice was silent and he nodded.

He looked at the map. There'd been all sorts of talk in those early days at the campfire – head north to Canada where it was cold (what the geeks were goin' to worry about the cold? They had no fuckin' blood!), head east to the coast (yeah right – where 80% of the fuckin' population was), head to the military bases (like ya wanted to run into a geek who could bench press 300 pound), head to Washington (like any government prick would be able to keep his shit together in this type of world). In the end there had been too many opinions, no-one had known where to go, so they'd buried their head in the sand and tried to stay at the quarry. Well until _fuckin' Officer Friendly_ had appeared. He'd obviously got them moving – _BUT WHERE TO?_

Merle glared at the map like it was deliberately obscuring his brother's intentions. "Fuck it" he said out loud, _I need a hit_ and he reached over to his bag. His stump hit the seat and he looked over sharply.

His bag wasn't there.

"NO! No, no, no, no," he exclaimed, swivelling in his seat to look in the front footwell, in the back with some of the gear, chucking stuff around, desperately trying to convince himself that he hadn't left his bag where he remembered that he had. "FUCK!" he yelled, hitting the steering wheel again and again, the car rocking with his rage, the horn shattering the tentative serenity that had been established.

He sat there for a few minutes, lines popping into his head "_Hey dollface – just come back for me stuff_" "_So what bitch – I left ya, but I forgot me gear_" "_What you lookin' at sugartits?_" "_Come wit' me – we'll find someone who can git ya home._"

The tyres screeched as he spun the vehicle around, heading back to the _Palace, _almost drowning out the low roll of laughter in his head_._

His stomach was telling him it was after lunch by the time he had pulled up at the outskirts of the town. He paused, _What, some bitch got ya scared?_ drawled that inner voice lazily. "Fuck off" he said distinctly and pushed at the gear stick but before the car moved he slammed on the brakes.

The cars were coasting along slowly, coming towards him and he tensed, but then they turned off the highway – one, two, three of them, men standing in the tray. So they hadn't given up, he realised. They'd come for their vengeance.

And he'd left her all alone.

He could turn around they knew – they wouldn't have been able to pick his car out in the slight heat wave coming off the road near the edges of the buildings and the other derelict cars. They didn't know he was there, they wouldn't know where he had gone. They wouldn't find him.

But they'd find her.

_Great work ya hillbilly prick_ growled a voice in his ear. _Some of ya finest work Merle – and that's saying somet'in'!_

He shifted the car into gear and edged it forward, keeping the revs low. He eased the car across the street that they had turned into, looking down the street – towards the _Palace_. Only the back end of one car was still visible, poking out through the open gates. _Fuck_ he thought. They were in. _She'll be fine_ he thought, _she's a clever bitch, she's got the dog, the sword, now she has the cross bow_.

_T'ere's like t'irty of t'em Merle, t'at ain't no odds for a bitch_.

A movement in his rearview mirror caught his eye and he grinned. "T'ems Dixon odds."

He reached his left hand across his body to grab at the rifle that sat next to him, tucking it under his right armpit, watching the two men in the side mirror as they separated, using hand signals to communicate silently as they made their way towards the back of his car. They both carried serious looking weapons – looked like military but there was no way that they were military – their hand signals came from TV and they were making a basic mistake – one of the men was a good couple of metres ahead of the other. Merle reached out carefully and pulled at the door handle, disengaging the latch without actually moving the door. Then he waited.

The first man ducked down, trying to avoid the side mirror as he reached forward to unlatch the door. He glanced up – the millisecond in which he connected to smirking blue eyes bringing him to full realisation of his mistakes in life before the door swung open and a boot came up and into his jaw, cracking the joint and shattering his consciousness. Merle roared out of the seat as the second man started to react, bringing his gun up to bear – too late as Merle's finger depressed and his brain exploded out of the back of his skull with the impact of the bullet.

The sound ripped through the empty street, bouncing off the walls and windows of the buildings. Merle grinned in satisfaction – _t'ey would have heard t'at_. He looked once down at the prone body of the first man, then tucked the gun under his arm and reaching into the car to get the gun bag. He dropped it to the ground next to the man and added his weapon to it. He grabbed the truck keys and slid them into his pocket, slamming the door. He took one more precaution and then, grabbing the bag, moved away at a ground eating lope.

He paused on the wall for a moment, being careful not to shake the fence that had given him access over the wall. There were no men in sight – he could still hear them working their way out from the car. He eased himself forward across the grass, ducking underneath the washing _wha tha fuck? _until he hit the edge of the building. He lowered himself to his haunches and felt his foot graze something – the crossbow. He picked it, swinging it over his shoulder before leaning his face around the corner. One of the pickups, its nose damaged by the collision with the gate, sat in the middle of the compound, another one directly behind it and the third as he'd seen it before. All but the first sat empty – where the men had gone he wasn't sure, nor how many of them there were, although by his count the most he had a maximum of 24. He wasn't sure whether the two he had dispatched counted – best to assume that they didn't. The sight of a corpse with an arrow through its head made him smirk – _down one._

Merle backtracked and placed the gun bag and the bow near the pool pumphouse, coming along the wall and behind the back of the truck and eased himself forward. The man saw him in the side mirror as he stood with his knife held up, he spun with a cry leaving his throat and the gun spitting. He was too slow and he sagged as Merle's Bowie jabbed up through his jaw. Merle yanked it out, there was a spurt of blood that landed all over the door and out the window onto his shoes and he swore, but gently lowered the dead man to the bench seat. He lowered down and waited, listening, examining the gun _silencer – good for geeks, not you ya prick _and tucked it into his belt. _Down two._

"He's not here, I'm telling you Archie," said a frustrated voice. Merle peeked around the edge of the wheel, watching as one man followed a second along the bottom walkway. The first stopped and kicked a door in, holding his weapon (_serious hardware_) up and jumping in like a bad imitation of Bruce Willis. The second man followed in, still complaining. "All the doors are locked, it's been cleaned out, there's nothing here."

"He was here yesterday," came the surly reply. "Now shut it."

"Robbie's had that piece up there for fifteen minutes now," the man continued without pause. "He's gotta be close to finished now. If we head up there now, maybe we could get some before the rest of the crew get back?"

"Hell – Robbie ain't going to leave anything worth getting" snorted Archie, opening the cupboard. His lips pursed in a whistle. "Hey Frankie – you gotta come and see this." There was silence. "Frankie?" he queried, turning out of the cupboard.

"Frankie ain't here," snarled Merle, his Bowie hard into Archie's throat, still warm from Frankie's blood – the majority of which was pulsing out onto the carpet. Archie froze, gingerly extending his weapon and lowering it the ground by the strap. "Now, where will I find Robbie?"

The silence was split by a blood curdling scream.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

_What the hell were they shooting at?_ Marion wondered, locking the door behind her. It wouldn't slow him down much, not now that he'd seen her drop her crossbow, but at the moment she would take anything. She reached up to push at the manhole, leaving it slightly ajar as if in careless haste and then hurried to the bathroom, unscrewing the panel at the base of the wall with shaking fingers and pulling herself in. Dog trotted under her arms as she tucked the screws into her pockets, she pulled the panel against the wall and secured it with a piece of wire from the inside.

She tried to contain her breathing _stupid, stupid, stupid_ she told herself for the second time in two days. But this was more serious – as threatening as Merle had looked – he'd only been one man. A one handed man at that. This was easily more than a dozen – she hadn't waited to count them. As soon as one had lifted his gun she had let loose, the bolt flying true to her target. The others had lifted their guns then but _he _had stopped them with barely a word. He'd smirked – daring her to have a go. And she would have too – except that she had only had two bolts, the rest in the quiver back in her room. She had let it loose, having only a brief satisfaction of seeing him duck before she had dropped the bow and dashed around the far side of the building. There had been a thunder of feet following her, if she hadn't been too busy pulling herself up through the burnt beams she would have smirked at the way they cautiously advanced around the building. She heard one, two, three doors being broken open before they arrived in the burnt room.

"Go and check that out – all of you" ordered a voice and she bit her lip with how close he was – outside the room. So much for her feint downstairs.

Footsteps moved off and she shivered in the silence. Had he left? Was she safe?

There was a slight click and she started. She put her hand on Dog's muzzle, stopping the growl before it really started. Footsteps sounded – he was in the room. She held her breath as they paused _go up there – see what you find you prick_. But there was nothing – he hadn't taken the bait. The footsteps grew louder and the bathroom door opened. She bit her lip as she watched the feet walk up to the vent – and then turn. There was a pause and then...

The sound of liquid hitting liquid. _He's taking a leak_ she almost sighed in relief, sagging slightly. The sound continued for a few more moments, then the noise of a zipper being readjusted. She watched the feet, willing them to turn again, to head back out, to go looking elsewhere.

Her head tipped slightly to the side, next to his shoe there was something, some mark and an object. She frowned, trying to resolve the image into the three distinct items – the grey tiles with grimy grout, the slight puff of black powder and the small piece of metal. The foot moved, treading right on the collage of objects. It picked up and a hand came into view, picking up the small screw.

_Oh crap_ her innards dropped.

"Well hello my lovely," he smiled at her, reaching out to yank the panel away from the wall and to grab her legs. She kicked out at him, but he kept a vice like grip on her legs as he dragged her out. Dog came flying out, barking furiously and snapping his teeth at the man. Marion found her legs released for a moment while he deflected the furious animal, but even as she scrabbled for grip on the tiles to turn over and then around to bolt for the door she heard a yelp and sickening thud and a pair of arms wrapped around her waist.

She struggled, but the man was over six foot in height and her head knocked uselessly on his chest, he simply lifted her off the ground so that she had no purchase to push with and grabbed her wrists. She managed a little damage though while he struggled to get ascendancy and he swore at her, slamming her into the door frame. "Cut it out you little bitch, if you know what's good for you."

"I was always slow on the uptake," she grunted, her head swimming, but placed her legs firmly against the door frame and pushed back. _Horse riding thighs have some use after all_ was her isolated thought as he stumbled back into the sink, his knees hitting the edge of the bath and for a moment he rocked. He let go of her with one hand to balance himself and she put both her hands on his remaining one, grabbing a thumb and reefing it backwards. He howled with pain and she made it to the door before he tackled her. She hit the floor with a thud, his weight forcing the breath from her. She gasped, trying desperately to inhale some oxygen and he grabbed her with his hand, flipping her onto her back. She found air in a gasp and threw up a hand, it connected with his chin and he grunted, but maintained his pressure on her as he captured her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. She struggled, but he merely laid on her – she couldn't shift him.

"So that's finished that then hasn't it lovely?" he boasted.

"Nowhere near it you prick," she snarled and lifted her head at him. He dodged easily and smirked at her.

"Now now, let's just talk shall we?" He smoothed. "All I want to know is where that hillbilly went."

She paused in her struggles. His hand was a handcuff of iron around her wrist and judging by the tightness of his t-shirt, his arm muscles were going to outlast any of her struggles. He might have been a handsome man in an earlier life, but it was a bit hard to see. While there was a suggestion of a red mark on his face and perhaps a touch of blood on his lip, that was all that she could possibly claim. There were other marks though – several cuts on his cheekbone and eyebrow where he had been sewn back together, a purpling bruise all around one eye – although not enough to close it up properly he looked like he had a perpetual wink. _So he had met Merle earlier._

"I don't know," she replied breathlessly. He recognised her situation and lifted his body slightly off her, not enough to allow her movement, but enough to let her lungs inflate. "He left this morning."

"When?"

"Early, before light," she replied before she could process the benefit of lying and leading them off on a wild goose chase.

"Where was he going?" he demanded. Marion remained silent and he squeezed her wrists together. She grimaced and his voice turned silky as he annunciated every word slowly and clearly. "Where... was... he... _going_?"

"I don't know," she replied firmly and steadily. "He was talking about heading for the hills – you take your pick."

He looked into her eyes, taking note of the defiance and the spirit in her sparkling brown eyes. He nodded "I believe you."

She sighed in relief but his next words struck ice into her heart. "Of course that means I only have one use for you."

His weight changed and his free hand grabbed the top of her shirt, ripping it with one motion. His head bent to her stomach, his eyes on hers as he licked from her belly up to her chin, his free hand finding one breast and squeezing it. He plucked at her nipple, trying to get a reaction from it. Nothing happened and he lowered his mouth to it, his hand moving down between them, unhitching the button on her pants and pushing the zipper down as he forced his hand into the fabric, between her legs and under the fabric of her undies. "Fucking dry c..."

Marion closed her eyes, compressing her lids together as she tried to stop the sobs. _Stay passive_ her rational voice told her, _don't fight him. Let him have what he wants – the most important thing is to survive this. _

_And then what?_ said another internal voice. _Even if he is happy with once and leaves you alone – what about the rest of them? Are they going to leave you alone?_

_It's only a body – it's not me. I'm safe in here – he can never touch me _refuted rational voice.

_But it's your body _screamed the emotional voice._ You haven't given him the permission to do this. He has no right!_

_No but life is more important_ insisted rational. _Live to fight another day._

_Live?_ sneered emotional. _With this? With the memory of his hands on you, inside you? _The voice was silent for a moment. _All by yourself? Alone with your thoughts?_

She erupted suddenly, letting loose with a scream of rage, her elbows flinging up as she fought his hold, her hips twisting to remove his hand from inside her undies, the bulge of his erection from against her thigh. She bucked, throwing her head forward, catching him in a glancing blow.

"Cut it the fuck out," he yelled, removing his free hand to slap her across the face.

The world swum but she fought him still, loosing a leg from under his and jack-knifing it up into his crotch. He twisted slightly and the bulk of her blow landed against his thigh. He grunted and his hand came back the other way, catching her other cheek with his knuckles.

She saw red, figuratively as well as literally, tasting the blood in her mouth. She bucked her body up, for a moment she had air between her body and his and she pulled up her knees – he landed back with a crush and she grimaced as her knees were bent under his full weight – but then pushed up _horseriding thighs!_ and forced him back enough that she could let fly with full force with one leg. Again she missed the prize because of his quick thinking, but it was solid contact and he was dislodged slightly. She twisted, wrenching her shoulder around and his grip on her broke. She scrambled. But he was already back on her. His hand came up again and this time it wasn't an open hand but a fist that slammed into her face once, twice and for a third time.

Dimly she was aware of his hands tearing at her clothes, trying to drag her pants and undies over her hips, freeing himself from his own clothes. As if in a fog she felt her legs being parted, his weight coming down on her lower body as he poised over the top of her.

Dog barked and her eyes rolled to him. He was standing near past her head, his white fur marred by a little blood, but his ears were pricked and his tail was up with a slight suggestion of a wave – looking to the door. _What? _She swallowed, the metallic taste of blood strong in the mouthful and opened her mouth, forcing all of her pain into one screamed word.

"Nineteen."

She started to let go, giving up her grip on consciousness. _It would be better this way – at least she wouldn't remember much, and if she was lucky she would never wake up._

But he was moving now, he was off her, dragging his pants up, dragging hers – then he had her by one arm and he'd dragged her to her feet, one arm tight around her forearms, cruelly tight across her breasts. He dragged her forward, out of the bathroom and facing the door – cold steel against her head.

The figure in the doorway came into focus slightly. A large man – not as tall as the one holding her, but broad. _Like a brick shithouse_ observed her mind. He was talking, so was the man behind her, she blinked, trying to focus. Seeing the gun – pushed tight into the right shoulder but held by the left hand, the right arm ending prematurely in a stump that merely balanced the weapon. She blinked.

_He'd come back._


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Archie had hit the floor, blood gushing from the wound in his neck and Merle was on the stairs by the time the scream had finished echoing through the complex. He got to the top and paused _which way?_ cursing inwardly. He knew he didn't have much time – whatever was happening to her _fuck – he knew exactly what was happening to her and whose fault it was_. He pulled at the first door and then stepped to the left, trying it. He hesitated – what if she was to the right and he was getting further away from her? A thought came to him and he let out a low whistle, looking for any sign of a white fluffball.

There was silence for what seemed to be an eternity – but which was probably only a couple of seconds. He took a couple of steps, looking for anything, his muscles clenching.

The next scream bounced around the complex as well, echoing off the walls in a confusing pattern that could never be traced from one point of reference. But the scream was a word – and that told him everything he needed to know. He took off down the verandah at a run, hitting the door of room 219 with a shoulder blow that shattered the catch like it was glass, swinging the rifle up into position and locking it onto its target.

The dog yipped once in recognition and ran behind him, propping at his left ankle, hackles up and a low growl vibrating through his throat – directed at the man who held Marion around the chest, a gun to her temple.

She'd copped a hammering and his blood boiled. Her shirt was torn open, leaving a couple of inches visible from her neck to her waist, past the juncture of a pink bra and her belly button to where her pants had been left open, showing a glimpse of light blue undies. The skin was not untarnished, there were bright red marks on whatever he could see – they would change over the next couple of days to blue, purple and black. He knew by experience. Her face was no better – her cheek was swelling dramatically, she might be lucky not to have a break with that one, there was blood flowing out of a wound above her eye and her lips were swollen and cracked.

She looked about as good as he remembered his ma looking the day before she vanished.

"Wha' tha fuck ya doing 'ere Robbie?" he growled, his mouth pressed against the stock of the rifle.

"Looking for you of course Merle. I was worried about you, after we er... parted." Merle's lip curled. "I need to understand Merle- we took you in, we patched you up, we gave you food and shelter and you repay us how?" continued Robbie.

"I repaid you enough,' snarled Merle. "I fixed up ya ve'icles, I 'unted for ya. I more t'an paid for my debt."

"No-one leaves the group Merle, you _know_ that" Robbie said in a hard voice. "That's the rules."

"Yeh, well I never was good wit' rules Robbie," he put a sneer into his name. "Ya should know _that_." He looked again at her, her eyes had found him now and he adjusted his tone. "How ya doin' there honeypouch?" She blinked, a confused look on her face. He opened his mouth to repeat when she replied.

"Just peachy – you?" her voice was weak, and thick as if she spoke around a swollen tongue, but it retained a hint of acerbic bite.

_Uppity bitch_ he grinned inwardly. "Wha'd he do to ya?" he asked, eyeing the untidiness below her waist.

"Not," she swallowed and her voice grew in strength. "Not as much as he wanted to."

"Ya lucky then Robbie," he growled, turning his full attention to the man. "I'm just goin' to kill ya then."

"This your woman Merle?" Robbie asked with a sneer.

"Just a bit o' tail Robbie," replied Merle dismissively. "But ya can t'ink o' her as tha line in tha sand. Ya ain't gettin' to 'urt any more women."

"I don't hurt any of my women," Robbie retorted indignantly. "They come to me willingly."

_He act'ally believes t'at shit,_ realised Merle. "Let her go." He caught her eyes and ever so slightly tapped his left elbow onto his ribs and jerked the rifle barrel half an inch to the right.

"Where's the bag Merle?" retorted the man in a hard voice.

"Gone," replied Merle.

Robbie's face flinched and Marion cried out as his arm tightened painfully across her chest and the gun pushed harder into her head. Robbie visibly forced himself to relax. "You're lying Merle. There's no way you could use all of that in three days."

Merle laughed. "Ya don't know shit 'bout me Robbie." She was frowning at him and he repeated his gesture. He held out the three fingers to the side of the barrel.

Robbie looked at him steadily, Merle squinted back along the barrel of the rifle. Slowly he lowered one finger.

"That's a shame Merle – now you owe a debt" said Robbie slowly. "This'll be a nice down payment of course," Marion grimaced as his hand clenched cruelly over her breast. "But you owe us for four men."

"Nine" corrected Merle and Robbie flinched again. "T'ere's four of mine downstairs and ya may as well add hers to my tab."

"You are going to have pay back the camp for that Merle."

Merle snorted, "pay back tha camp? T'ey'll be cheerin' me like a hero for taking t'ose pieces of shit out." He lowered the second finger _Ya paying attention bitch?_

"I was quite attached to Terence," mused Robbie in a dangerous tone, his eyes sparking at Merle. "You will have to pay _me_ back for that."

"We already 'ad t'at discussion Robbie" snarled Merle. "Ya may 'member tha result of t'at?"

"It will make it all that more pleasurable Merle," smiled Robbie, the tone of his voice making Marion cringe.

Merle dropped the last finger and she pulled her arm forward, slamming her elbow into Robbie's left side where the cracked ribs were. His arm twitched, loosening slightly and she dropped to the floor, simply letting her knees collapse – _he had been more or less holding her up. _

Sound moves at 340km/hr. Given that she was standing a maximum of four metres away from the rifle, multiply 340 by 1000 and divide by 3600 and then divide four by that – her mental arithmetic failed her but it was obviously only a fraction of a second for the sound of the shot to reach her. She couldn't even guess at the speed of the bullet but it would obviously only take a fraction of a second to hit the head of the man behind her. So it was impossible that she could even appreciate the four distinct factors: the impact of the bullet into the brain, the sound of the exploding skull, the sound of the bullet being fired and the splash of blood across the side of her face – _wasn't it?_ Then she hit the ground in an untidy heap, the breath whooshing out of her as Robbie's body landed on her.

For a few seconds she gasped underneath the body, folded tight on herself and trying to draw in breath. Then the weight was suddenly gone and Merle's face was right next to hers.

"Are ya alright woman?" he demanded urgently , his left hand over the top of her head as he searched through her hair, flicking off a small fragment of bone and sorting through the splatters of blood to determine whether any was hers. There was none. "Oorah (1) you fuckin' son o' a bitch!" He had always been a good shot, it was the only reason that the Corp had kept him on as long as they had, but he hadn't been sure until the last moment that she had understood his signal and he _had_ been shooting with his left hand.

"Git up – we gotta move before the others arrive," he ordered, standing and walking to the bench. He put down the gun and climbed up onto the bench, pushing aside the manhole and with a little jump, got his right forearm braced enough to reach his second hand into the opening, tapping back and forth until it landed on what he was looking for. He dropped back to the bench and then to the floor, sliding the bag over both arms and then picking up his rifle. He turned to her – she hadn't moved. "Oi – woman!"

Marion stayed frozen, not acknowledging him. Her shirt still lay open, exposing her belly and a good portion of the curve of her breasts. Blood still dripped down her face from the gash above her eye, leaking a trail across her face and congealing on her thighs. Dog whined, pushing underneath her hands in her lap – reflexively they curled slightly, but she made no other movement.

"Are ya injured?" he demanded, walking back towards her and squatting. He tipped her face – the bone wasn't broken, but she wouldn't be able to see out of the eye for a bit and he needed to get something on that cut to stop it bleeding. He looked around and moved to the kitchen, opening the drawers until he found the t-towels. "'ere, grab this," he said, holding one end up near her head. She didn't move and he frowned, looking at her more carefully. She was shivering slightly now, her eyes were blank, still pointed somewhere near his knees.

"Oh hell," he groaned _the adrenalin had gone _and the shock was moving in. He'd seen this before: he knew he had to snap her out of it. "Marion! Marion! Fuck it – wake up woman." He grabbed her shoulder and shook her, Dog growled as her whole body rattled.

Marion heard his voice as if through a fog. _He was angry with her, again._ She frowned _why, what had she done this time._ Dimly she heard him curse again and then she was dragged to her feet by one arm, by some instinct her knees locked and then she was upside down and moving.

Merle swore as he balanced her over his shoulder, holding the gun in his hand. "Shut up mutt," he ordered the dog as it yapped at him, jumping up to where her head dangled about his waist. He wrapped his stump around her legs and turned for the door. "Make yaself useful – go an' scout out tha place so we can git outta t'is place in one piece."

The dog looked at him, his head on an angle. Then he sniffed and trotted out the door, turning right. Merle blinked. "Well fuck!" and followed.

The sound of the rifle had echoed throughout the complex as much as the earlier screams, and while the men had not been able to pinpoint his location any better, they had made the obvious conclusion that he had had something to do with it. He could hear them moving around the outside of the wall towards the gates, he bent over as he hurried down the verandah _not after the dog_ he told himself, _just in the same direction_, towards the stairs. The dog propped, a low noise vibrating in his throat and Merle pulled to a halt, easing Marion off his shoulder and to the ground against the wall. She stared at him blankly and Merle cursed inwardly, grabbing the t-towel and using his stump as leverage, managed to wrap it around her head and tuck it inside itself. Even after all that she didn't acknowledge him and as the dog growled again, eyes pointed to the corner he reached into her shirt and with a brief jerk, snapped the necklace and key off. He swiftly opened the door behind him and with hand and stump under her armpits dragged her inside and around behind the kitchen bench. "Stay," he ordered briefly and the dog sat, watching him slip back outside the door, leaving it slightly open.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Marion heard the groan and frowned, placing the cup back down on the bench. "Rachel – honey are you ok?" she called, stepping out of the kitchen towards the bedroom. Another moan sounded and her step faltered "Rachel?" She called out again as a figure limped towards her, stepping into the light – the front of her shirt soaked in blood. "Rachel honey – what happened darling – did you have a nosebleed?" she stepped forward out of the kitchen, stepping sideways to see what mess had been made in the bedroom. She saw the blood on the floor first, it was trailed from where Rachel had walked. _That's a lot of blood_ she thought with some sudden unease. Her eyes followed it backwards to the bed _not Rachel's_ and she saw the body in the sheets. Her mouth opened in a scream and she turned back to Rachel, seeing the blood centred around her mouth, the blue eyes in which the light had been turned off, the pale skin, hearing the unearthly groan as what used to be her daughter walked towards her. She felt a sharp pain in her arm and looked down...

Dog let go, stepping back and yipping again into her face. She blinked, looking around. She was still upstairs, she could tell from the colours on the cupboards, looked like one of the family apartments. She blinked again, putting her hand up to her face, grimacing as she feathered across the swollen flesh and the t-towel on her head. She shivered and looked down, blinking again at the sight of her bare and bruised flesh _his weight changed and his free hand grabbed the top of her shirt_. Dog stepped up on her legs and licked at the drying blood on her face and she hissed in pain, pushed him down gently. She heard a noise outside and reached up behind her, feeling in the drawer for the big carving knife that she knew should be there. She gripped it firmly and lowered her hand to her thigh, closing her eyes.

The footsteps were quiet, but she could tell he was a large man, and moving quickly. She waited until the steps paused, feeling his proximity from the dimming of the light through her lids as well as some type of sense. She steeled herself as his hand touched her skin, moving from her waist up her rib line until the curve of his hand brushed against the side of her breast. "Bastard!" she yelled and drove the knife upwards.

Merle threw himself backwards as the blade came towards him, the angle he had made by using his left hand to inspect her left side ribs being the only protection he had from a severed artery. "Wha' the fuck?" he exclaimed in a furious whisper from where he had landed on his backside.

Marion blinked _A large man – not as tall as the one holding her, but broad. Like a brick shithouse_. "I'm sorry!" she cried, shivering suddenly. "I'm sorry, I'm ..."

The rest of her words were covered by his large hand. "Ssh – do ya want tha rest o' tha pricks ta find us?"

"Merle?" she said softly as he slowly removed his hand.

"Course it's me," he replied, picking up his rifle from beside her and moving to stand up next to the window and see whether her noise had alerted any others.

"You left me," she said.

He looked at her, swallowing slightly and then turned away. "I came back" he said defensively. Her silence seemed to scream at him _too late_. "Can ya move?" he demanded to end it.

Marion assessed herself. "Yes, I think so."

"Git up then, we gotta move."

She pulled her shirt together and rolled over, forcing herself to her feet, grabbing at the bench and closing her eyes as the world twisted and turned. The sensation faded and she opened her eyes again, finding him examining her carefully. She nodded to him and after another moment he nodded as well. He pointed to a spot behind him, adjusting his rifle in his hand and against his shoulder, carrying it one motion from ready to fire. He looked down at Dog. "Go on then – back gate."

Dog sniffed and to Marion's surprise, trotted out ahead of them. Merle stalked after him _really he almost glided, but he was just too much bulk for that word to seem appropriate _and Marion followed, one hand holding her shirt together and the other reaching out to Merle, her fingertips just making enough contact that he knew she was there. She swallowed as she stepped over the two bodies he'd dragged into the lounge room _poor Mrs Andrews' carpet_ she thought, following Dog and Merle back along the verandah.

Dog propped and Merle's head jerked to her, she moved to put her back to the wall. Dog came and sat at her feet, nuzzling her fingertips with his cold nose until she reached down and gave him a pat. Merle crept forward to the corner of the building, listening. He reached back and placed the rifle next to her – she picked it up and held it as he retracted a handgun from his waist line. He eased back to the corner, waited, and then stepped around the corner. There were two spits and he was back, tucking the handgun into his belt before grabbing the rifle back from her and motioning the dog back on. She followed him as they went around the corner, resolutely keeping her eyes from the two bodies at the base of red smears, heading to the stairs. Dog propped at the top and growled, Merle lifted his rifle "Move!" and she ran, past him and down the stairs. She heard the rifle fire, then the answered hail of semi-automatic fire and Merle barrelled down the stairs after her. She ducked under the base of the staircase, Dog at her feet and Merle landed next to her. He sat the rifle against his knee, flicking out the magazine and cursed as he counted the number of bullets.

"Oh hillbilly" called a voice, "come on out you sad fuck." Merle stepped out, with his rifle pressed to his eye, there was a shot and Marion heard the thud above her. She glanced at the man beside her – he had a smirk on his face that made her uncomfortable.

"How many are there?" she asked quietly.

"Too many," he said grimly, the rifle still buried in his shoulder. He glanced around. "Ya got any bright ideas, now would be the time..."

"It's mildly crazy," she said after a pause.

Merle stepped back out from under the stairs, letting off two quick shots and the footsteps retreated. "I'll take crazy – but it's gotta be quick." He knew that they would be flanking them now, working at them from both of the other sides of the building as well as from the top. He looked over at the back gate – it was a frustratingly short sprint away that he knew they would never make.

She nodded, reaching for her neck. She froze, her wide eyes turning to him in horror. "My key..." She took a deep breath as he gestured to his pocket. She stepped closer to him, reaching a hand into his pocket and extracting the key. "One minute" she requested and stepped off, Dog pausing only for a moment before following her – Merle's lips quirked in a sneer. He heard a step and bent around, firing another shot.

Marion paused at the corner, peeking around. The men saw her and yelled but she ran anyway, her fingers shaking as she forced the key into the lock, looking up at them again as she finally got the door open and jumped in. They arrived as she slid the desk over against the door, it bounced but it was heavy enough to hold for the time she needed. Dog's tail was wedged firmly between his legs, but he followed her as she made her way into the bedroom, reaching under the bed. She heard some shots but forced herself to pay attention as she reached up and under the springs of the mattress, gathering three small objects and carrying them carefully, she wouldn't be able to help Merle if she got this wrong. She stood up as the door crashed open, there were more shots but they weren't directed at her _Back Merle!_ She stepped out towards the doorway – seeing six men holding weapons to her. She thrust her chest out a little and the shirt fell open a bit further, she saw the hunger light up in their eyes and held out her hands, flicking her right thumb.

The explosion ripped through the complex, making the building shudder. Merle hit the ground, covering his head as plaster rained down on him. He looked up – easing back around the corner and staring at the carnage of bodies that had erupted from the room. Some were whole but flayed – the ones that had been outside the room shooting at him – the ones that had been inside had not done so well. He lifted the rifle, but lowered it almost immediately as Marion stepped outside of the room, jogging to him with the dog at her heels.

"Ya crazy bitch," he exclaimed.

"What?" she replied over loudly, rubbing at her ear. "Here – you deal with them up there," he almost dropped the rifle as she lobbed him a grenade, barely managing to shove the butt into his armpit so as to be able to catch the small green bauble. He watched her run to the other end of the building and nod once at him. He pulled the pin with his teeth, counting to three before stepping out from the shadow of the verandah and tossing it up. There was a scream, the sound of scrabbling feet before the explosion – but he was already running to the back gate, Marion by his side, her grenade exploding on the other side of the building as they ducked underneath the washing. He pointed to the gate and she went to it, propping only momentarily when he angled his run to the pool pumphouse but he was headed back to her by the time that she had the gate open.

"Run", he ordered as the gunfire started, slamming the gate and following her into the trees.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) made an assumption that it was the Marines he joined to get his military experience


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"What the hell are they doing?" Marion asked with some spirit, pacing as the sound of gunfire erupted again, breaking through the sound of music _her music_ that radiated at high volume from the _Palace_. They were a couple of klicks away now, hidden amongst some trees but they had a good line of sight to the upper storey of the _Palace_ and could see the lights shining from almost every room. She had somewhat cleaned up in a hollow of the small stream, but her eye was almost closed now and the redness was starting to change. Her shirt was beyond repair, so she had tucked the ends into her pants in an effort to keep herself covered.

"Sortin' out tha peckin' order," muttered Merle, keeping his eyes focused on the land between them and the _Palace_. Dusk was approaching, whatever pursuit that was going to happen probably already had happened. While they might have put a dent in the men, there were still more than enough to risk going back – something the men seemed to have realised so with the exception of two sentries that he could see (and the other two he could imagine on the other side of the building) the men had totally forgotten their existence. "T'ere's wha' ya might call some vacancies at the top o' tha tree and lots o' people wantin' to fill 'em."

"You think that they may just kill each other off?" she wondered, sitting down next to him.

He glanced at her, his eyes dipping to where her shirt bubbled out and showed him a tease of flesh. "Why tha fuck ya reckon we could get t'at lucky?"

She sniffed. "So now what? We've been here for hours."

Merle's lips compressed, he more so than her. She had collapsed upon arrival, _hell that's why they had stopped here_ and had actually managed to have some _was sleep the right word?_ He'd taken the opportunity, under Dog's watchful eyes, to examine her properly. He hadn't been able to find any broken ribs, but she was going to be sore for a few days yet and that eye was going to take a while to heal. "We wait a few more – they'll go eventually."

"After what?" she demanded, standing up and pacing again. Merle shot her a look at her volume and she ducked her head, continuing in a lower tone. "They're destroying the place!"

_Says the woman who let off three grenades_ he thought with a smirk, but said nothing because he understood what she meant. Even from where they were they had heard the men finding the freezer and once they found that it was obvious from the sounds that floated across that they went looking in every room. Cars had been moved into the compound and there were teams of men loading up the trays. There wasn't going to be much left when they got back. _All her effort – wasted_. And of course it was hardly likely that the stores he had gathered would be left sitting pretty in the truck either – he'd just gone back to nothing. _Well not quite nothing_ he thought, his stump resting on the backpack and the weapons bag at his feet.

"I don't suppose you have something to eat in there?" she paused in her pacing again.

"Nope," he shook his head.

"Drink?"

"Nope."

"So – nothing to actually keep us alive?" she said acerbically.

"Guns do a fair bit to keep ya alive now-days," he refuted.

"Unless you starve or perish from thirst," she muttered.

"Drink from the stream," he suggested. Marion turned and examined the pool of water, the disturbance from her washing up had turned the water a turbid brown and there a suggestion of a film over it. Her face curled, muttering something about not being that thirsty. "Then sit down and shut up before t'ey 'ear you," he ordered.

Marion glared at him, but obeyed, turning away from him and stoking Dog as he came over to her. The sun began to sink below the horizon and she shivered. She wrapped her arms around her chest, pulling Dog into her lap. The night continued its advance and she glared at Merle, sitting in his vest and t-shirt without even a hint of a goosebump. "I suppose," she stated and he almost jumped in surprise, "that we can't risk a fire?"

"Would light up tha place like a beacon," he said. "Ya may as well go jumpin' and screamin' tha' ya 'ere."

"Then perhaps would you mind if I sat with you?"

"Wha' the 'ell for?" he turned to look at her.

"Because I am frigging freezing," she snapped.

"Oh." He blinked. He lowered the rifle and dragged the zipper of the weapons bag open. He flung the jacket to her. "T'ere."

She glared at him, even as she quickly pulled her arms through the sleeves. It was far too big for her and she was able to pull her knees up inside its width. "What about you?"

He shrugged. "Never felt tha cold t'at much."

She shivered again even as the warmth started to grow. She was still for a couple of minutes and then with a protesting sniff from Dog, stood up. Merle looked over to her as she sat down on the ground at his feet, her back to the log he was perched on, the temperature in his immediate space increasing with her proximity. She shrugged as Dog settled down onto her lap again. "I do and body heat is the best warmth you can get."

The night continued to get colder as the sun disappeared entirely and the stars came out. She looked up into the sky, admiring the stars while not recognising their formations. The roar of celebration at the _Palace_ faded into background and she listened to the owls and other night creature noises as Dog twitched in sleep.

"T'ere's more now," he said and she blinked, looking at him and seeing he was looking up in the sky as well. "No light from the cities ta hide t'em."

"I remember hearing on the news of the panic in the streets of New York when it had a blackout," she smiled slightly. "People who'd never seen the stars and thought aliens were coming to get them."

Merle snorted. "City people don't know wha' they're missin'."

"They're so different here," she mused, leaning backwards and letting her head rest against the log. "We have so many more at home. Some nights – the whole sky is blanketed with them and it is as bright as a full moon. On a night like this you'd be able to see the Southern Cross, Orion, Pleiades, a bit of Taurus, the Magallenic clouds, but I can't find any of them" she paused, worried that he would rip into her.

He lowered his rifle, sliding down to the ground next to her and leaning back so his head was on the log next to hers. "There's Orion," he traced the outline. "There's Taurus over there."

Marion smiled, pointed out she could see the familiar formations, albeit somewhat at a different angle.

"That one there is Bootes, the Herdsman," he continued.

"How?" she demanded, moving slightly so that she could look along his arm.

"That is his body," Merle outlined slowly, "that's his neck and head, those're his legs."

"You know," she said after a pause. "I reckon whoever made up these things must have been on some good shit."

Merle chuckled.

"What about the others?"

"Ya kiddin'?" he rolled his head, looking at her side profile. "Ya want me to teach you the stars?"

She rolled her head towards him so that her good eye could focus on him. "You got something better to do?"

Merle blinked, then reached his hand up. "That's Capella, that's the Little Dipper – that really bright one at the end is Polaris – the North Star. A little later when winter is really here, you'll be able to see Sirius – the Dog Star."

"What? Like as in Harry Potter?" she exclaimed.

"Who?"

She sat up a little to face him. "You can't be serious? What planet were you on about ten years ago?"

_Not this one_ he thought balefully. They had been heavy years, he'd lost his pa _no real loss there_, Tony _at least he'd gone out on a high_ and Daryl – well he'd hadn't really lost Daryl, they'd been through too much shit for the link to ever be truly severed, but in those years he'd definitely mislaid him. He'd not realised it until he had arrived on his brother's doorstep, meeting those blue grey eyes over the barrel of a rifle and seen the consideration, the hesitation, before the gun had been lowered and the door's lock flicked open.

"So how exactly do you know your stars?" she asked after a silence in which he showed no indication of responding and the look on his face prevented her from prompting him. She leant back into the log again. "I don't see you as a physics or horoscope type of guy."

He snorted. "No fuckin' use for eit'er of t'em. But the stars are damn useful when ya in tha middle of tha forest tryin' to figure out where tha fuck ya want to git to."

She smiled and leaned a little closer to him, the air had gotten colder and despite his jacket she could feel the cold seeping in. A noise sounded behind them and she jumped, turning her head around even as she placed a hand on his arm.

"Relax," he growled, "it's just a badger."

"A badger?" she repeated slightly uneasily. "They get pretty big don't they?"

"He ain't interested in us," Merle replied, his arm tense under her hand. She looked down suddenly, realising what she had done and removed her hand. Another noise on the other side of the made her start again "Just a 'coon." He looked at her "Ya never spent a night outside or wha'?"

"Of course I have," she replied indignantly. "Although it was with the benefit of a tent. It's just," she paused. "We don't have the same kind of wildlife as you do."

"Wha?"

"The type that eats you," she clarified. "I mean we have sharks – there's the great whites in the southern and western coastlines which take a surfer or diver on a regular basis, plus they're getting more frequent on the east coast as well, then there's the tigers and hammerheads plus the bull sharks in the rivers. There's the crocs in the north – you have to be careful where you swim up there, even where you fill your water bottle otherwise one of them might grab you. There's the dingoes" she continued in a rambling style, "but they're pretty shy except in the tourist areas where they're a bit gamer and have been known to attack. The snakes of course, we have hundreds of those, mostly venomous – but most of them you've almost got to tread on, or swim into in the case of the sea snakes, to make it bite you, except for the taipan which will chase you. A kangaroo can gut you fairly effectively with its hindquarters, or give you a pretty good beating with its forelegs – hell even a koala or a decent sized possum could do you some damage. Then there's the spiders..." Her voice faded as she noticed that he had raised himself a little and was giving her a look in her good eye. "The point is," she continued defensively, "if you stay out of their way, they'll leave you alone. We don't have anything that will actually try and hunt you, like bears, mountain lions or wolves."

"Tha ranchers hav' cleaned out most of tha' lions, Georgia never 'ad much in tha way o' wolves and bears," he shrugged. "'cept maybe up in tha hills o' course." He cast her a sideways glance and slowly lifted his right arm so it rested across the top of the log. "And sometimes t'ere's rogues – old bears as got lazy and don't want ta 'unt and come into tha town ta scavenge."

Marion shivered, leaning slightly towards him, seeking the security of his bulk as well as his warmth.

"And o' course tha towns are diff'rent now – t'ere's no people ta scare off tha game. Tha deer are comin' in ta eat tha lawns, tha predators might start ta follow t'em in."

As if on cue there was a yap and a cry that echoed through the night and she started again, leaning over toward him.

"Just a coyot'" he said dismissively – although it sounded more like a bloody mutt to him. The dog's ears twitched but other than that he showed no reaction.

"A coyote?" she repeated with unease, physically shifting her body closer to him. Her left shoulder was underneath his armpit, her arm traced across the top of his side to her lap, leaving just a hint of softness against his ribs. He shivered faintly and she cast a look up to him, pushing herself closer and adjusting the jacket to overlap his back - and there was a definite more than a hint against his ribs. He lowered his stump to the back of her shoulder, just behind her arm pit so that his hand would just curl around the roundness there until his fingers just teased at the nub in the centre – except that there was no hand, so he was left with a shoulder blade.

"Pardon?" she said softly, glancing up at him.

"Nothin'," he bit out. "Best try and git some sleep – t'ey," he jerked his chin to the lights and sounds of the _Palace_, "won't be makin' any more moves tonight. We need ta be up 'fore t'em in case t'ey do a sweep in daylight." She looked at him uncertainly. "Nothin's goin' ta come near us."

She nodded, sliding out from under his arm and against his leg, pushing her back into them. He crossed his arms across his chest against the cold, but noticed that she had rolled back and was looking at him. "What about you?"

"I'll be right," he shrugged. "I'll keep watch."

"Why? Dog can do that." His brows rose and he looked pointedly at the dog snoring lightly at her hip. She turned slightly "Dog – on guard." The dog's ears pricked and he lifted his head around to look at her, his tail thumped on the ground and he then laid his head back on his paws – but his ears remained up. Marion turned back to Merle. "He'll let us know if anyone, or anything, is coming – you need to have some sleep. And besides, it'll be warmer with you down here."

Merle considered for a second, glancing at her, then nodded. She rolled back over, he reached over to place the rifle next to her, then moulded himself against her, tucking her backside into the cup of his hips. He reached over with his hand, laying it onto her waist carefully. She sat up suddenly and he flinched it back "Wha?" he demanded.

Marion stripped off his jacket. "Here, you have this." She held it out to him, frowning as he didn't take it immediately. "You'll keep my back warm."

He took the jacket slowly, sliding it on. It was still warm and there was a slight smell that was her. She was shivering slightly as she lay down and he slid down back against her, her back pressed up against his chest, her soft buttocks pushed against his groin, her knees against his. He reached his hand over, tucking his elbow firmly against her waist and laid his hand down on the ground in front of her. She moved slightly, trying to find a spot for her hip against the hard ground and sparks ignited in his blood. She stilled and her breathing slowed.

Merle lay still, listening to her deep breathing and the softer, faster breathing of Dog. Her warmth was burning into his groin and the heel of his hand. Slowly he lifted his hand off the ground and with her outward breath her belly pressed against it. His breath caught slightly, but she didn't move. He stretched his fingers out and this time it was the soft curve of her breast that brushed his thumb on her inward breath. He bit his lip, the sparks flamed into life inside him. Carefully he eased his hand up, the backs of his fingers brushing the back of her arms that she had pillowed under her head and as she breathed in, his palm was filled with a soft rounded shape. A soft moan escaped him and he carefully eased his hand into the valley, allowing his thumb to stroke over its centre.

Marion sat up suddenly, spinning around to glare at him with her one good eye. "Seriously?" she demanded. Dog jumped up at her movement and growled in warning. "Seriously Merle?" she asked again but this time in a stage whisper. "The world has ended, I get the shit beaten out of me, get the better part of raped, we're stuck out in the freezing open and you try and cop a feel?"

He winced slightly _when she put it like that_. "I wasn't doing anything woman – just trying to keep warm."

She wasn't buying it, he could see that even in the limited light of the stars.

"Just lie down woman," he ordered.

"What? So you can have a bit more of a feel around?" she demanded, glaring at him. "Roll over," she said after a pause.

"Wha?"

"Roll over," she said distinctly and very determinedly.

Merle sighed, but reached over and grabbed the rifle, putting it down on his left side and rolled over. He felt Marion lie down again, this time her form pressed against the back of him, her hips pressed up tight against him, her legs riding up into his. She kept her upper body away from him a little, he could feel her elbows pressed against his back from where she shielded her breasts from him. _Fuck_ he thought and closed his eyes.

Marion bit her lip as the cold seeped in to her. Dog created one warm spot against the back of her calves and the front of her legs were warm against his, but the jacket he wore was insulating the rest of his heat from her and the cold was attacking from all other sides. She shivered a little and tensed her muscles to control the movement, but the cold was relentless and she shivered again.

"Hell woman!" he exploded and rolled onto his back, turning his head to look at her. "Roll back over, now."

"N...n...no," she chattered.

"Ya freezing," he spat at her. "Don't be fuckin' stupid – do ya want ta git exposure?"

Marion glared at him, shivering. "Give me your jacket then," she suggested.

He snorted _what the hell did she reckon he was? Some type of gentleman?_ "Like 'ell I will," he said out loud and her face changed to one of outrage. "Ya's 'alf the size I am – ya'll be as warm as fuckin' toast and I'll be freezin'."

For a moment she glared at him. "You're right," she decided and he nodded, but his triumph was short lived as she got to her feet, startling the dog back onto his feet with a yip, stepped over him and settled down against his left side. She moulded herself to him, sighing as his warmth immediately started to take the chill off her.

Dog sniffed and hopped over, turning in several tight circles before finally settling against the front of her legs, his ears pricked as he lay down.

"Wha' fuckin' difference," he snarled, rolling into her. Her head was down so he tucked his left arm underneath his own head, reaching over her waist with his stump, the jacket wrapping over her hip. She sighed as his warmth fully enveloped her and tucked her hands under her head, her arms folded across her breasts. Merle tucked his stump firmly against her, but this time she had no protest. Her elbows sat just against the top of his arm, he could feel the very base of the curves of her breast against the stump but no more. _It was just not the same_ he thought, his lips compressing. Her breathing slowed and she fell into sleep even as he seethed. _Fuckin' Officer Friendly and his gang of merry pricks_ he thought _leaving me like a rabid dog on the roof to be eaten by geeks. Now look at me – couldn't even feel up a bitch from both sides._

The first spit sounded loud on his jacket and it jolted him out of half sleep. He lifted his head and the dog turned to him, his ears down. The second drop hit him on the nose and he looked up into a starless sky. The third spit was followed closely by a fourth and a fifth. "Ya son o' a bitch," he growled out. "Ya just fuckin' with me now ain't ya?"

There was no answer except for the continuing rain and he hunched over, pulling the collar of the jacked closer to his neck and rolling to put more of himself between the wetness and the woman.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

They eased slowly into the back gate, Merle's arm extended with the silenced weapon and carrying the backpack while she followed a step behind with the rifle, the crossbow and the bag of weapons over her shoulders. Dog trotted on her heels, his fur a little damp still.

She had woken just before light, not from the usual nightmares but due to a difficulty in breathing. It had taken her a few moments, and a gentle snore in her ear to identify the warmth that surrounded her as being him – a warmth that was almost crushing her. He had all but rolled on her during the night, his torso and hips over hers and pushing her into the ground, supported only partially by his arm buried between her breasts, and his leg pushed between hers. She had blushed at the intimacy in the position and the fact that she hadn't woken earlier, lifting her head slightly and taking a deep breath – the pain had suddenly exploded around her and she had whimpered quietly.

"Merle," she said quietly and he paused, looking to her and nodding as she gestured to the blood stain on the grass. There was no body though and he continued into the compound.

He'd woken as soon as she'd moved, but stayed still, quite comfortable where he was and not at all interested in getting another ear bashing. The rain had stopped and while the back of his legs were wet, her body pressed against his chest had warmed him through. Her first gasp of breath had alerted him to her predicament and when she gently pushed at him, he had allowed himself to be rolled onto his back. He had opened his eyes slightly as she rolled up to her feet, ready to catch her, but she held it after only a short battle and moved away. She was back before he had counted far enough to get up to look for her and with a stifled groan she had lowered herself back to the ground. Dog's tail had thumped briefly on the ground as she gave him a pat and then she had lain back against Merle, moulding her back, butt and legs against his side. He had sighed as if still asleep and rolled again, throwing his arm over her chest again, she had sighed in contentment. His lips twitched as he hit the barrier of her elbows and his last thought before he dropped off back to sleep was almost an affectionate _she's only a whore for warmth_.

"It's clear," he stated, relaxing his position as they walked past the first few rooms which had been impacted by her grenade, although he kept the weapon in his hand. The whole complex was quiet and there was no sign of any of the vehicles.

They'd woken to Dog's growl and the noise of gunfire from the _Palace_ about dawn. He'd jumped up and grabbed the rifle, walking to the edge of the trees to look at the building but hadn't been able to make out anything. The screech of tyres had followed not long after and they had waited for about an hour before starting the slow walk back, the pace increasing as Marion's muscles warmed up and she was able to step more freely. There had been the argument, sotto voice, about who was carrying what but she had pointed out that the silenced gun was the best to have in case they were wrong and that the bag of guns would just get in his way. He'd finally figured out that he was actually arguing _against_ a woman carrying his stuff and had just turned to walk away, leaving her with a triumphant grin.

"They took the bed," she said in quiet astonishment as she paused by one of the rooms, the door completely off its hinge.

"Careful," he warned as she stepped in, his senses tingling slightly as he stepped backwards with her. There was evidence of the men she had caught in the blast, although not as much as he would have thought.

Not just the bed, Merle realised as he cast a glance into the room. Pretty much everything that wasn't tied down had gone. The next room was the same and the next room after that. She walked into 118 and swallowed a moan – all the clothes and items that she had collected and stored – all were gone. A thought came to her and she started running to the stairs.

"Hey!" he called out, running to catch up with her. She had stopped at the base of the stairs, her face pale, but even as he came up, tiptoed around the body. Merle glanced at the body as he followed – a casualty of the leadership battle based on the large bullet hole in the middle of his back.

The door was attached, but barely, hanging off one hinge. They'd been through the room like a plague of locusts, the doors of the cupboards were open, showing the bare shelves. The refrigerator door was also ajar, the light shining dimly. She dropped her load at the doorway, walked towards her bedroom and opened the door, her gasp drew him close to her, the gun at her waist, but he lowered it after one glance. The mattress was covered with blood, the floor strewn with the blankets, sheets and other bedding. There was a blood trail and he followed it towards the bathroom, glancing at the shattered mirror and shower screen before peering out the window where the blood trail led down the verandah with no sign of any body.

An object hit the wall next to him and he whirled.

She was picking up armfuls of the bedding off the floor, throwing them over before bending over to pick up another load. "Where is it? Where the hell is it?" she said to herself in almost a panic.

"Hey?" he said. Dog came over to him, his tail between his legs and his nose almost touched Merle's leg as he hid behind him.

She ignored him, walking over to the other side of the bed and lifting it, "Where is it?" she said again, this time more loudly.

"Wha' are ya lookin' for?" he demanded.

"My camera," she snapped at him, pausing in her frenzy of searching. "What the fuck would they want with that?" His brows rose slightly. "What possible reason could they have to take that? Are they going to take fucking happy snaps of them and their bastard mates?" She dropped to her knees, looking under the bed and almost pulling over the bedside table to look behind it. "Arrrgh!" she screamed and Dog turned to slink back into the bathroom.

"Hey!" he yelled, taking two large steps and reaching down with his hand and dragging her to her feet. She fought him, wrenching out of his grasp and stepping back.

"Don't fucking well touch me Merle," she snapped. "This is all your fucking fault. They were chasing you! You stole from them and they wanted it back! Not me, I just got caught up in the cross fire and now look at this – they have taken everything!"

"Ya said ya had some more supplies,' he retorted angrily.

"Oh yeah, great," she sneered, rubbing one hand through her hair. "Three bags with half a dozen tins of food, change of underwear and a toothbrush. Just fucking fabulous!"

"We'll be a'right," he said. "We..."

"_WE_?" she snorted with laughter. "There is no 'we' Merle – you left me, remember?"

"I came back!" he yelled.

"Really," she glared at him. "For what Merle? For me? For your bit of tail?" She paused, the venom dripping from her words. "Bullshit Merle – you came back for that fucking bag – not me."

"I saved you, didn't I?" he yelled at her, leaning over her threateningly. _Damn but the bitch stepped closer._

"Saved me?" she mocked, rolling her one good eye. "For what exactly? You tell me exactly what I've got left."

"You got me," he started but was cut off by an almost hysterical laugh.

"And what's that worth Merle?" she derided. "Absolutely fucking nothing. You're a one handed, inbred redneck piece of white trash whose own mother walked out on you and whose brother wouldn't even wait for you after the world ended. Why the hell would I want you?"

Merle flinched and his fist clenched.

She saw it and lifted her chin, turning her head sideways "Go on – finish off what your fucking mate started."

Merle turned on his heel, grabbing the door and slamming it closed so hard that the wall shook. He bent down at the doorway, grabbing the weapons bag and the rifle, taking a step out. "Fuck" he said, dropping the bag and extracting a handgun and a packet of bullets. He tossed them on the floor without a glance at where they landed, shrugging the bag onto his back and stepping out, turning down the stairs and heading out the main gate.

Marion stayed still for a few moments, the noise of the door reverberating through her head as she trembled with rage. She dropped to her knees amongst the bloody sheets and Dog crawled over to her. Gingerly he licked at her hand and it came up, sweeping him into her lap and she folded over the top of him, shuddering. He licked at her face, his tail waving very slightly and finally she sighed, straightening. "It's all gone Dog," she whispered. "They're gone – I've got nothing left."

She put Dog onto the ground and stood, having another half hearted look around the head of the bed for the camera. There was nothing and she moved to the cupboards – they'd been emptied, but she opened the drawer and found the calico bag she'd been filling with postcards (_they took better photos than she ever could)_. She emptied them onto the floor, staring dispassionately at the pictures of the Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon for only a moment. She walked over to the window and picked up the couple of isolated scraps of clothing which had escaped the purge – a pair of undies, two (odd) socks and a singlet top. She wandered into the bathroom, finding a sliver of soap still in the shower and one toilet roll at the very back of the bottom shelf in the vanity. She examined herself in the mirror "well that's attractive," she muttered and with a groan, pulled off her ruined shirt. She used a bit of toilet paper to dab water at a couple of cuts and to do a better job of cleaning around her eye before pulling on the singlet top. She splashed some water over her face, then grasped the pressure point between her forefinger and thumb for several moments until the throb throb in her skull subsided. She picked up the wallet, intact except for the money that had been in it, that she thrown into the bathroom and slipped it into the bag. _Absolutely fucking nothing. You're a one handed, inbred redneck piece of white trash whose own mother walked out on you and whose brother wouldn't even wait for you after the world ended. _The words replayed in her head and she had a vision of herself, snarling the hateful words into his face. She sighed. "Crap."

She opened the bedroom door almost cautiously, but he wasn't there _Well hello – you told him to piss off_. The gun and bullets gave her pause and after only a slight hesitation she picked them both up, adding them to the bag. There didn't appear to be anything salvageable in the kitchen, but they hadn't searched through the sink water and she was able to extract a knife and spoon. There were no glasses so she stuck her mouth under the tap and drank until she couldn't fit anymore. She glanced at Dog and he wagged his tail at her. She rifled through the cupboards and drawers again, finding a cracked plastic container and he lapped at the water eagerly even after it leaked out onto the floor. She glanced over at the lounge room, but all the music and movies had been taken, it looked like they had even attempted to move the lounge but it had been too heavy to get far. She glanced at the cross bow that he'd left where she'd dropped it and stepped to the lounge, smiling slightly as she moved the couple of cushions and located the quiver against the wall. A couple of bolts were broken and these she discarded.

Marion took one last look around the room that had been hers for the last six months and then looked down at Dog. He looked up at her and his tail wagged slightly. "Come on" she invited and stepped out the door, turning to go out the side stairs.

She walked quickly down the street, purpose in her stride, Dog bounding along next to her to keep up. She stepped in a puddle and frowned, taking a little more notice of her surroundings. The place had a newly washed feeling about it, water glistened on the plants and trees in the garden, she could hear a slight trickle in the stormwater pipes beneath the ground. _It had rained?_ she thought in confusion. She felt her legs and glanced at Dog – there was a suggestion of dampness on her right and on his coat and she thought back to the night. The stars had been out before she went to sleep, but when she'd gotten up – had they been? _No, because she'd almost tripped over that log_. She thought back to how she'd woken – his torso over the top of hers, his legs riding up over hers and his jacket resting over her hips so that only her lower right leg had been out. _Why the hell would I want you?_ "Oh for fuck's sake Dog," she groaned as she figured it out.

They arrived at her first destination and Marion pushed through the gate and turned into the verandah. "Hey Tweety," she said and then stopped. The cage was empty, one isolated feather balanced on the edge of the cage. She smiled somewhat ironically and walked past the cage, entering the house and looking under the entertainment unit. She dragged the bag out, opening the zipper to confirm its contents and extracting a muesli bar before throwing the bag over her shoulder. Dog bounced ahead of her as she chewed, waiting while she opened the gate before zipping out ahead of her. "Dog," she called and he propped, one foot in the air. He waited until she was within a couple of metres of him before he dashed off again, and this time she let him go. She crossed the road and reached for the gate.

Dog growled and she looked down at him – his hackles were up and she frowned, "That Sheppard back is it Dog?" she asked and putting the bag down, pulled the crossbow forward and inserted a bolt. Dog growled again, louder this time but she ignored him, reaching up and over to unlatch the gate. She crept forward along the side of the house, Dog at her heels giving an isolated growl each couple of steps. She glanced down at him with a frown "ok, ok – I get the point. Now shush already!"

She eased herself around the building, looking for the large dog but couldn't see any signs. She glanced over at the chicken coop – it had been almost dismantled. The wire had been ripped off one edge, the steel frame had been pushed out of shape. She frowned, straightening. "Chick chick?" she called.

The shape that straightened in the back of the coop and turned slowly towards her held the remains of a chicken in its hand, blood all around its deformed mouth. A growled moan escaped its mouth and the chicken scraps were dropped as it turned. A second figure straightened in the coop and a third limped from behind the back wall.

"Oh shit," Marion gasped and turned. She hit the gate as the trio came around the edge of the building, shambling with startling pace. Dog scooted out at her feet and she slammed the gate, reaching down to grab the bag as she ran back out into the street. She skidded to a halt as she and the group made eye contact – there was at least of ten of them. Their growls exploded and they broke into a run _a proper run_, the gate at her side rattling and shaking as the others tried to break through. "Move Dog!" she yelled and turned, running as best she could down the street.

She managed several blocks before the injuries of the previous day caught up with her and she stopped, gasping for breath and holding her ribs. Her heart thudded in her ears, drowning out any other sound. The world started to tip a little, pinpricks of black floating on the edge of her vision _No, no, you will _not _faint Marion_ she concentrated, knowing that fainting, even for a short while would be a death sentence. Dog jumped up on his back legs, nudging her with his nose and she turned around. They had pretty much kept pace with her, they were fresh ones, not decayed yet. _Where had they come from?_ she wondered. She took a deep breath and lifted the cross bow. She targeted the largest one at the front _Where had she seen him before? _and let the bolt fly. She missed, but the group was so tightly packed that a figure behind him dropped. She flung the bow back over her shoulder and picked the bag back up, turning to jog off again to put a bit more distance between her and them. She had half a dozen bolts _shame that those two bolts had snapped – she'd have to do some close quarter work._

She paused at the intersection, putting the bag at her feet and inserting the bolt. She lifted the bow and took aim at the largest one again. She released the trigger "Got him!" she exclaimed and looked down at Dog. He was looking away from the figures, up the cross street and she turned more to see what had caught his attention. There was nothing there and she flicked him lightly, "come on" and stood again, putting the bag back over her shoulder.

Dog growled and she turned again. Her blood froze.

The crowd shambled forward, limping, dragging damaged limbs, hunched over in death. They were ten wide across and she watched one row, two rows, three rows come into view. A low groan sounded much closer and she whirled, suppressing a scream _because that was never a good move_ as a hand reached out toward her. She swung the bow like a bat and there was a crack as it hit his wrist, snapping it. He recoiled with the blow, but straightened, reaching out again, not recognising that the hand was at ninety degrees to the wrist. She scrambled out of the way, running with Dog on her heels down the side street.

The movement caught the attention of one of the dead in the main street and it turned, sniffing into the breeze. Another stopped and turned with her, then another and another and as if chained together, most of the group turned, the warm alive scent drawing them along eagerly.

"Well that's torn it," gasped Marion as she watched the two groups merge. It was nothing she could fight, even with the gun and bullets Merle had left her, there were too many and she was pretty much spent. Her face was on fire, her ribs stabbing her with every breath. The black spots were threatening to overwhelm her on each run, earlier and earlier. And the dead just kept on coming. She took a deep breath, grimacing at the pain it caused, and picked up the bag again.

The church was pretty much intact, but the doors had been knocked off their hinges and she knew that it offered no sanctuary, despite its stone walls. And too many had died inside it already. She instead made her way through the garden, around the hedge and the unkempt roses until they gave way to what used to be the manicured lawn pocketed by headstones. She made her way unfalteringly through the monuments and headstones until she arrived at the trio of fresher graves. No fancy headstones adorned these graves, just a simple cross made from branches on each of them but here the grass showed evidence of a recent mowing.

"Hey gorgeous," she whispered towards the larger one and gently laid her hand on the cross. "Smidge, missymoo," she said to the others, laying her hand briefly on each. "Mummy's here." She squatted down amongst them and opened the bag, lifting the box open and filling the magazine with bullets, counting as each one went in. She clicked it back into place and undid the safety, laying the gun carefully on the ground, bending her head to her knees. Dog whined and she reached down to give him a pat. The groans announced the first arrivals and she swallowed, reaching for the gun. She looked up at the church, seeing the effigy of Jesus through the window.

"Forgive me," she whispered and lifted the gun.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Merle made his way down the stairs quickly. "Not'ing," he fumed. "Ol' Merle ain't fucki' not'ing. Just 'cause I don't 'ave no fancy education don't mean Merle is not'in'. I survived t'is far – she don't know all tha shit I've 'ad to survive – she wouldna made it, her the miss prissy fuckin' perfect." He turned into what used to be the restaurant, making his way back to the freezer. A slight coolness hit him as he stepped into the kitchen, telling him what he needed to know but he continued anyway. Sure enough the door was wedged open – but to his surprise not all the shelves were bare. Obviously the fight this morning had stopped them loading all the cold stuff before they had left. All of the meat was gone, as was milk and juice, but there was some bread left and he grabbed a couple of pieces straight out of the bag to eat them – they were a little icy in the middle but he was too hungry to care. He picked up a flagon of water that had been ignored amongst the other riches and popped the lid to pour some down his throat before threading his stump through the handle. He threw a couple of loaves in his bag but although he wished it otherwise, couldn't see how he could keep any of the other food good without the eskies. He walked out the door, but after only a slight hesitation, turned back to shut it. They'd come back, he knew that and while he had no desire at all to help them out, whatever their faults were they did have women and children back at camp who they would share the food with, and even if it was at a price, Merle had to give them that opportunity.

He hesitated for a while, but made his way back up the stairs, turning away from her room to where she had taken him a couple of days previously. He went in slowly – she wasn't there, but neither was the food. A couple of bags of flour had been broken in the process and he considered the piles for a moment, but he didn't have a bag to put the powder in and he imagined that the process of collecting it with one hand would define painful. He walked down the back stairs, pausing to look at the mess that had been the impact of the grenade and frowning as he noted the absence of bodies, although a couple of parts remained. He made a detour to where they had seen the blood stain _hell it was more like a guttin' t'ere was t'at much blood. So w'ere tha fuck was tha body?_ He wouldn't have had them pegged for the taking them back or even burying type. He shrugged _perhaps they'd burnt 'em. _The fuel shed was entirely empty, not one container left and he turned to leave the _Palace._

The car was still where he had left it, as he knew it would be, and also as he suspected, the tray was entirely empty except for one half empty container of fuel. "Pricks" he said mildly. His mouth tipped in a tight smile as he saw the ignition wires twisted together: dumping the rifle, weapons bag and backpack onto the back seat before leaning in and popping the hood. He extracted the distributor cap from the bag and within a few minutes sat at the wheel to fix the ignition before inserting the key. The motor turned over smoothly"Stupid pricks," he muttered.

He glanced once up at the _Palace_ but he was too close to the wall to get a view of the second storey. He gunned the motor and turned the wheel. The tyres screeched slightly as he headed back out of town.

The figure shambled out of the alley as the car went into the next block, the remnants of its last meal still dripping down from its mouth. The warm scent filled its nostrils and desire for fresh flesh over-rode its memory of the cold, half devoured meal. It staggered after the remnants of the scent and the noise, joined by another of its kind, and another and another – but then a breeze sprung up and another scent, a closer scent caught their attention and they turned.

He stopped at Watkins 4WD and camping. They'd found that too – all the tents were gone, sleeping bags and stretcher beds _fuck even tha toasting forks_ had been cleaned out. He found a couple of tarpaulins and one or two small coils of rope. He grabbed them and after a search under the counter found a camp oven that Mrs Leggils had returned because it had a dent in the lid and the new one was still on order. He ripped the sticky note off it and loaded his small find into the truck.

_Ya can't just leave her here brother_

"Why tha fuck not?" he demanded. "She doesn't want me." He leaned in and turned the engine over, but didn't get in.

_That don't matter_

"You 'eard wha' she called me!" The fuel gauge was more than 3 parts full, _gas guzzler get fucked _he thought with some satisfaction. He calculated the range he now had, without any spare fuel – he would be forced to scavenge on the way now, for fuel, for shelter, for food – not necessarily in the order.

_So? You been called worse b'fore. _

He had of course, many times. But never with such cold, deliberate contempt. She hadn't just stabbed him with a verbal blade, she'd skinned him alive with it.

_Was any of it untrue?_

Merle hissed and slammed his hand against the top of the truck. "Damn bitch hates me – she won't come wit' me," he growled.

_So make her – it won't be the first time you've ignored what someone wants._

He snorted. "Ol' Merle knows best" he skyted. She'd just have to _fuckin' well _put up with him, at least until he could get her somewhere safe. Surely there had to be some groups that weren't like the other one, that actually had someone with some honour, some integrity in charge _Well ya better let her go in by herself – they wouldn't want you!_ he could hear the fuckin' smirk in the voice. "Piss off," he said, but mildly because he knew he was right.

Merle could never remember being wanted – not since his mum. His mother, she'd more than wanted him, she'd loved him. He could remember sitting on her lap as she read books to him, watching at the table while she prepared dinner and talked to him about anything and everything, her sweet smell of soap and perfume. He could remember hiding in the corner as his Pa beat on her for not folding the towels correctly, getting flung across the room because he had dared to stand up to him. He could remember the slight swelling of her stomach growing, getting bigger and bigger until there was no room for him on her lap anymore, the kicking inside that used to make them laugh – especially after she ate some of his red frogs. He could remember the screaming, red faced baby that his pa called scrawny and his mother called Daryl. He could remember that even though she showered love on that little boy, there was always enough to go around for him. He could remember her asking him to look after his brother, her face all swollen and bloody, a small overnight bag held in her hands.

He'd thought for a while that he could make his pa love them after she was gone, that if he did everything his pa wanted, that if he kept his brother from crying that he'd love them. So he's become silent and tough like his father seemed to want, he'd learnt to cuss and to hit, he'd taught Daryl everything he'd needed to know about keeping his pa happy. By the time he'd figured out that his pa was a mean son of a bitch without the capacity to love, who would always hit and then ask questions later, there was no-one left. Any of his mother's family had been turned off by his likeness to his father, his teachers' had labelled him as a foul mouthed troublemaker (he'd never graduated high school), hell even the sheriff had him pegged as the most likely culprit _with some justification _he thought with a smirk (hence the stints in juvie). So he'd looked for an escape – and found it in drugs – alcohol, marijuana, pills, coke, heroine. His friends became the dealers, the users were too often weak willed pansies except for the rare ones like Tony, but the dealers were tough and they appreciated having someone of his _talents _around.

If he thought about it, Daryl was the only thing he was proud of in his life. He'd been proud when the Corp had accepted him, but he'd fucked that up _although it had been fuckin' wort' it_. He'd never earned a qualification, never had a steady job, never even had a woman for longer than a fortnight. Daryl was his best work _and look what a mess I fuckin' am_. Well the world had ended, he was going to hell – if that was actually a place one went to these days – but there was one thing he could do. He could fix this mess he'd made. He nodded and straightened.

The smell hit him in the face like a wet towel and he whirled, an instant of recognition overwhelmed by the sight of the gaping mouth reaching for his neck which was only slightly larger than the slit through the middle of his throat _accounts for the absence of noise_. He yelled, holding the geek off with a hand in the middle of its chest leaning back as the hands reached for him – hitting the steering wheel and shattering the silence with the horn. The thing almost drooled with its hunger for him, leaning forward despite his hand, pushing with inhuman strength towards his throat. Merle kicked up with a leg, hit the thing between its legs in a blow which should have incapacitated any functioning man – but this thing wasn't functioning and it didn't even flinch. It reached up with its hands and grabbed at Merle's arm, turning his mouth toward it. Merle yelled again, this time bringing his head forward in a rush that thwacked against the skull of the geek and the thing's grip faltered. He reefed his hand free and with a fluid movement drew his knife and slammed it through the thing's jaw.

The knife was strong, steel tempered by the age old process, folded over and over. The knife was sharp, cared for with something as close to love as Merle could feel. It slipped through the flesh like butter into the brain and the geek folded onto itself, landing in a heap at his feet and falling off the knife. The silence was suddenly louder in his ears than the horn.

Merle leant against the truck, breathing hard. He looked down at the figure beneath him and his head twitched. He bent down and pulled at the broadsword on the figure's back, cursing as the makeshift harness jagged and the body jolted. He stepped sideways suddenly – but no, the thing was actually dead. He reached down and with a few quick swipes had the harness cut and the broadsword in his hand. He tipped the body over – the slice through the neck was clean – it had been done with a sharp blade.

_It was Barry_ "wha' tha fuck?" he demanded. Except for a pallor about the man's skin, and the obvious injury, he could have been the same man that had shared a beer with him a week ago. He grimaced at the oozing portion of his chest where it had been eaten away. _Geeks at the Palace? _"Marion."

He turned the wheel hard and smoke spun from the tyres as the car changed direction again. He pulled up next to the _Palace_ and ran up the stairs, too worked up to notice that the body was no longer there. Her door was open and he swore. "Marion!" He made a quick round of the building, but there was no sign of her. "Marion!" he yelled. There was no response. "Fuck," he said. He made his way back to the car, opening the door and leaning on the horn. He straightened up, listening for anything. There was nothing.

_Ya kiddin', right?_

"Shut tha fuck up" he snapped angrily. "I ain't finished yet." He turned the car again and started driving slowly back out of the town, his window open. "Marion!" he yelled. "Marion!" He whistled loudly, even though he didn't think he had much credit with the dog.

He slammed on the brakes, staring in horror. There had to be about a hundred he figured, doing a quick head count across the front of them and through what he could see. These were first generation geeks – there were missing limbs, large chunks missing, decaying flesh, but they were shambling along at a purposeful pace – not yet on the hunt but obviously with a goal in mind. _Tha music, tha lights_ he realised suddenly. _T'ey'd fuckin' gone and rung the dinner bell for ev'ry geek wit'in twenty miles_. And now he'd just given them a target to aim for – they'd seen him and their pace had picked up.

He slammed the car into reverse – there was no way through that, he'd have to go around. Some of them quickened their pace, but he had the car moving quickly and within a few moments they were only a dot through the windscreen.

"Damn it bitch," he cursed. "Where'd you go?" He turned down a side street, swerving as a trio of geeks reached out at the car, and swore as he jumped the kerb. He reefed the car back onto the road – it would be just _fuckin' fabulous_ if he got a flat tyre or damaged the car. He looked in the rear view mirror – there were more now, they were coming out of the woodwork.

The gun shot echoed through the streets and he braked the car hard, listening. There was another and then silence. He turned the car, slowly coasting down the side street, listening for any others. He saw the figure to his left and braked, it was very badly damaged, its leg was snapped just below the knee and its step was a lurching and rolling as first the long leg stepped and then the short stump. It turned, walking into a gate and Merle looked up. A church. The sound of another gunshot confirmed his suspicion and he turned the wheel, pressing his foot hard against the floor, hoping he made it in time.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Marion backed up despite herself, firing off another round _five, _the head exploded in a shower of stale blood and she turned the gun to the next nearest one and then another and another _eight_. She heard Dog barking and risked a glance to see him dodge the grip of a decayed hand, slipping between a pair of legs, barking again as the mini group turned to follow him. His efforts had hardly put a dent in the crowd though and she fired again _nine_. She looked at the crowd in front of her – one or two had stopped to devour the fallen, but most of them were more interested in the warm body – her warm body.

"Dog?" she called and fired her last bullet. Well, her last but two. "Dog?" she called again, risking a glance to her side.

He was gone.

"Dog!" she screamed, ducking underneath the reaching hands and turning the gun to whack the butt against the temple of the dead person trying to eat her. "DOG!" she screamed again.

She heard the answering bark this time, but she couldn't see him.

"Come back" she called, throwing herself on the ground to escape the lunging figure. She rolled, pushing the gun into her waistband and swung the crossbow around off her back – the bolt almost went all the way through the head of what used to be a man and he dropped. But there was about twenty behind him and she flung the crossbow back – there wasn't enough time to reload. "DOG!" she all but screeched this time.

He didn't come.

Time is relative. People say that time flies when you're having fun, that a watched kettle never boils. The synapses within the brain move at an unimaginable speed and within those few seconds it was like someone had slowed time down. She looked down at the graves at her feet, her husband – the man she had loved, and been loved by for the last 12 years, the man who had died next to her, who she had then murdered. Her daughters – that she had carried for 9 months, that she had fed, clothed, nurtured for all of their lives, who she had seen grow in all ways from helpless babies to toddlers to little girls and in Rachel's case to a little lady with the world at her feet – ripe for the picking. Daughters who she had murdered after the sickness claimed them, whose broken little bodies she had carried and laid them next to their father and covered them with earth so far from home. She thought about the loneliness that had enveloped her since then, the sheer emptiness in her life. She looked up at the mass approaching her, ready to tear her throat out, to consume her – to make her into one of them if they didn't finish the job off properly. She held the gun in her hand and lifted it to her temple.

She heard the bark – it was far off, she couldn't see him. Her hand trembled - if she did this, she would be leaving him all alone to fend for himself. To find food, water, shelter. She would be forcing him to protect himself, he alone would be responsible for keeping the dead from finding him and eating him. And when he failed – he would be torn apart muscle by ligament by flesh.

She lifted the gun and fired it, twice into the two closest figures. She leant down and grabbed the bag, throwing it over her shoulder as she ran, the crowd close behind her. She ran as fast as she could, but she was still sore and she was winded, the bag and the crossbow were heavy on her shoulders, dragging her down. "Get some space," she breathed to herself. "Load the gun and get Dog." She ducked beneath a low lying branch and screamed as a hand reached to her. She fell over, scrambling backwards as it reached to her. A white fur ball launched itself over her shoulder barking furiously– his weight hit the dead man sideways on the knee – even in death that was a vital joint – the figure staggered and toppled reaching out with diseased hands to her feet. Marion scrambled back up as the hordes came around the outside of the tree, turning towards the gate. She hit it with a thump and it wobbled, but didn't open and she spun. They had circled around her, moving in with hungry eyes and groans of desire.

"Oh crap," she said and sunk to the ground, her back to the wall. Dog whined and stood up on his back legs, his front on her chest, and licked her face. "We gave it a go mate" she murmured and enclosed him with her arms, holding him tight and effectively smothering him as she bent over.

The explosion was loud in her ears and she felt a vibration through her back. The next explosion was much louder as was the next and the next.

"Wha' tha fuck ya think ya doin' bitch?" demanded an angry voice. "Git up!"

She turned her head in a haze, focusing on the boots standing over her legs. She looked up the drill trousers to the back of the leather vest. A shotgun dropped into her lap, he whipped a handgun from his waistband and let loose again, turning to glare at her "MOVE!"

As if released from a great weight she got up then, releasing Dog and gripping the shotgun. She went out the open gate, the lock having been blown off by the first bullet. She felt his presence behind her, the gun still firing, his back pushing up against her. "Where?" she demanded.

"There," he shouted at her, glancing over his shoulder. "Oh Fuck!"

He couldn't _see_ the car_. _Between them and the car, in front of the car, behind the car, at the back of the car was a crowd of geeks. Slowly as one they turned to face them, their teeth bared and they groaned in desire.

"Here!" he yelled, turning back and slamming the gate. He leant against it, digging his feet into the ground even as the first geeks hit against it. It jumped open but his weight and force shut it again and several fingers fell to the ground. "Git a gun!" he continued. She hesitated "Do ya want to 'old t'is?"

Marion swallowed, but moved towards him – he held his arms out wide and she pressed against him, reaching over his shoulder to grab a handful of guns from the bag. She flicked the safety off and turned, picking the closest figure to fire on, then the next then the next. The gun clicked empty and she dropped it, flicking the safety off another and firing once, twice, three times. She wasn't killing with each shot, some she was just hitting in the chest, some she was missing entirely. She bit her lip, feeling the fear increase within her, building until it was ready to explode. She felt her eyes tearing over and blinked frantically to clear them. They just kept on coming closer and closer, more and more of them. She could hear Merle grunting now with the effort of trying to hold the gate closed. _We're going to die_.

She wasn't cut out for this, he knew even as he watched her drop the empty gun and start with the next. She'd only killed five, her other shots hadn't been kill shots. They were still coming towards them and they had no-where to run. The crowd behind him was growing, his feet were moving in the ground, he couldn't hold it any longer. He swore and she looked at him, saw his predicament and moved next to him, pushing with him and the door shut again. But she didn't have much left in the tank, he could see not only the exhaustion but the terror, the horror building up in her. She was still fighting _tough bitch _but she was about to fall over.

"Git me a gun," he demanded in her ear. If he was going out then he wasn't going easy. She instead handed him the one in her hand – he fired off four deadly rounds that dropped their targets as she reached over his shoulder again, extracting more guns. There was no point bothering with the bullets – they wouldn't be getting a chance to reload. She handed him a new one even as his clicked empty and in unison they fired – he accounted for twelve bodies, she eight. They almost had a wall of bodies in front of them now.

And they still came on.

A hand came around the edge of the gate as it was pushed slowly open, Marion screamed as it reached for her – her weight came off the gate and Merle was almost pushed to the ground as they came through. He stumbled, catching Marion by the elbow and reefing her behind him – firing point blank into the geek's head as it limped towards them.

"Merle!" she cried and he risked a glance over his shoulder. There were three of them within a few metres of her. She fired, once, twice and two bodies dropped. The gun clicked – the figure stepped within a hands breadth of them, its mouth wide open.

There was an explosion of barking. Dog launched himself at the dead figure, grabbing the thing's leg and worrying at it, like a terrier with its prey. The figure stumbled and fell, Marion dodged and Merle saw the opening. "Go!" he yelled.

He almost pushed her forward, around the group of bodies that they had amassed, the dead figures howling out their rage as their prey escaped.

Dog ran at them, weaving in and out amongst the leading figures as they came through the gap between the wall and the bodies. One of the figures bent down, reaching for the white ball that smelt warm. It stumbled as others behind it kept on moving forward and fell, it tried to stand back up to pursue that warm scent, and it tripped over two behind it. Dog jumped the knot of bodies, barking furiously and continuously. He had their attention now, they were turning to him – there was no concept that a scrap like him would barely feed one let alone the multitudes. Their primitive senses only saw and smelt and recognised food. They wanted food. So they pursued it.

Marion stumbled, Merle's closed his stump's elbow around her tighter and kept her upright. He could see the car now, the dead had left it in their pursuit of them earlier. _Why weren't they chasing them?_ He wondered, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth _well not today anyway_ and he dragged her around to the driver's door. He flung her at the opening – she climbed up, he moved in towards her and after one startled glance, she lifted herself over to the passenger seat. He sat behind the wheel and turned the key, slamming the door.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, her eyes wild.

"Gettin' tha fuck outta 'ere," he all but yelled back at her. _Wha' tha fuck did she t'ink t'ey oughtta be doing?_

"You can't leave Dog" she said.

Merle blinked – he hadn't even noticed the furball wasn't there. "I ain't hangin' around ta be made dinner over a mutt," he retorted, pushing the gear stick.

"You won't leave Dog," she said, this time the words cold and hard and accompanied by cold steel against his temple.

He turned slowly, the gun never wavered and now it was pointed directly between his eyes. "I saved ya life" he exploded.

"And Dog saved yours," she said. She must have seen the scorn in his eyes. "He distracted them – so that they followed him instead of us."

Except not all were distracted and she jumped as a dead figure slammed into her window, blood, pus and drool smearing the glass. She recoiled away and Merle snapped the gun from her hand. Another one came out of her waistband and she pointed it back at him, flinching at the sounds coming through the glass directly behind her ear, but holding the gun resolutely straight at him despite the barrel of the gun half a metre away from her face.

There was silence inside the cab as they sat with guns pointed at each other. Neither moved, neither dared to breathe.

The dead figure was joined by another at her window, moaning and howling, pushing their deformed features against the glass where they could see fresh meat.

"Go ahead," she said coldly. "Shoot. Because I am not leaving without Dog."

_Well fuck brother _laughed a voice. _Didn't see that one comin' did ya?_

"We don't even know where the mutt went," he growled, still holding the gun at her around the weapon she held at him.

"He'll be at the _Palace_," she said. "This is how we cleaned out the place, he would bring them to me at the gates and I would shoot them."

"Do ya know how many fuckin' geeks t'ere is between us and tha _Palace_?" he demanded.

"We have the car."

_Oh so there's a 'we' now is there? _He sneered inwardly.

_Come on brother – keep wit' it. Fix this._

"Fuck," he swore and lowered his weapon. He jammed the gear stick in place and gunned the motor. He threw a glance at her. "We'll go and git ya fuckin' mutt, but I swear – if I git bit by a geek 'cause of ya fuckin' fleabag I'm eatin' him first then you!"

Marion smiled, lowering the gun as the car sped through the streets. The _Palace _was a one way in, one way out sort of place – for vehicles anyway and he slowed as he approached the street entrance. There was a crowd of the dead there, more were coming in – shambling and limping forward, some almost dragging themselves. He braked, holding his stump up as her mouth opened. He idled forward, the purr of the car not catching their attention over the noise of the groans.

Marion almost bounced in her sat with frustration – she wanted the car to screech into the _Palace_, knocking down any in their way to rescue Dog. But she knew that that was dangerous and that Merle wouldn't risk their one way of getting out of the place for Dog – no matter how many guns she held on him. _And what if he had called her on it?_ she wondered. _Would she have pulled the trigger?_ She didn't want to think of the answer.

"Where is he?" growled Merle pulling up at the street. The gates were wide open – there was no protection for Dog there.

"I don't know," she whimpered. "Maybe he didn't make it this far."

"He made it," he said bluntly. She smiled slightly at his reassurance. "T'ere's too many geeks 'eading in tha same d'rection." She sighed.

Merle watched the geeks – they were gathered before the gates on the opposite side of the street – all in some big pulsing group. They couldn't have got him – he'd be gone already and they would have lost interest. No, they were still hunting him – they had him cornered.

The skip. He'd gone under the skip – they could push and pull, move it around however they wanted – unless they could actually tip it he'd be safe. _Smart little motherfucking dog_ he thought. But there was no way out for him, he'd never get past the crowd of hands and mouths.

"Open ya door," he instructed. Puzzled, she did so and Merle opened his door – immediately the breeze found the mini wind tunnel, heading down towards the crowd of geeks. Some on the outer edges of the crowd paused, looking around slowly. But not enough. Merle put his hand directly on the horn – the sound rang through the street, bouncing off the wall. _That got their attention_ he noted with satisfaction – they stopped pawing at the gap under the skip and looked up at the sound, groaning as they saw him and caught a whiff of their warm scent. Some of the closer ones started to stagger towards them. He gave a piercing whistle "Come on mutt – ain't got all fuckin' day," he yelled.

Dog pelted out, under the feet of the geeks and along the street – some turned to grab him but he was moving too fast. He took a flying leap a couple of metres out, his front feet touched Merle's leg briefly before he landed in Marion's lap. Her arms folded onto him, almost crushing him "Dog! Oh you wonderful baby boy – you're safe now." He licked at her face frantically, his tail going a mile a minute.

_What 'tha fuck had he got himself into?_ wondered Merle as he slammed the door and drove out, weaving through the stragglers of the crowd as they headed out of town.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"Where are we headed?" she asked, holding her pressure point again.

They'd been driving for more than an hour. As before it was slow going through the path of destruction left by the National Guard. And this time it had been complicated by a few dead – those that were too decayed or broken to have kept up with the main body that had been attracted to the _Palace_ by the noise and probably the smell of many warm bodies. Most of these had been easily avoided, some however had not. One had managed to hang on somehow as Merle had run into it, reaching over and getting his arm into the slight opening of the window that the dog had been sticking his nose out of. Marion had scrambled out of the way of the reaching hand, almost laying her head in his lap and he had had to yell at her to hold the wheel before he could shoot the bastard off. Of course that had shattered the window so they now had full on air conditioning – which Dog loved as he stood on Marion's legs and stuck his head out to get the breeze.

"Outta town," he replied.

"Ok," Marion nodded. "We seem to have accomplished that. Where to from here?"

"Whatta ya care?" he demanded to cover the fact that he had no real idea.

"Given that we are on a limited fuel supply, I would prefer _not _to drive for too many hours in the wrong direction" she said. "I do _not_ want to get stuck in the middle of no-where with no fuel."

Merle slammed on the brakes – Dog slid off her lap with a yelp, but her seatbelt held her tight in the seat and she merely turned and gave him a glare. "Well where do ya reckon we should go?" he demanded.

"I don't know," she exclaimed. "I'm just a tourist remember – you're the local."

"Not 'ere I ain't," he replied, turning the car off. "I'm a long way outta me stompin' ground."

"Where's the map?" she asked.

He shrugged "I left it on tha seat – maybe t'ose pricks took it?"

"They had no reason to," she frowned, bending over Dog who had returned to his seat on her lap to look in the footwell. She unclicked her seat belt and lifted Dog off her, placing him on her chair as she turned, bending over the back of the middle seat and searching amongst the bags on the back seat.

Merle looked at her side profile – the singlet top she was wearing was obviously not warm enough, he could see the shape of her nipples through the fabric. Her waist was lean and as she bent over further he could see a little bit of skin. She leaned all the way over and her butt lifted to level with his head. Her workouts had made it tight and firm, it was nicely rounded – he could feel his body reacting to his thoughts. He lifted up his stump to run it across the curves – Dog growled at him. Merle glared at him, and bared his teeth in a silent growl. Dog's ears flattened against his head and he backed up slightly – Merle lifted his stump again.

"Ah ha ha ha," exclaimed Marion and wriggled out from the back, turning as she sat down in her seat – Dog scrambling quickly out of the way. She held the leftovers of the map in her hands. "So? Where are we?"

Merle looked at the odometer on the dash, thinking of the drive out, in and around and town that he had done. He lifted his right arm over the back of the middle seat so he could reach his left over his body to point. It brushed against the back of her head and Dog growled; Marion looked up, turning to look over her shoulder outside. "What is it pup?" she said, and instinctively moved a little closer to Merle. He flashed a triumphant grin at the dog and touched the map resting on her legs. "About there," he said.

She frowned at the map, instinctively putting a hand over to Dog to soothe him. "In the middle of no-where," she grumped. She examined the map intently for several moments, Merle watched her breasts moving with every breath. Her next words snapped him to full attention however. "There's a prison here – that wouldn't take us too many days..."

"No" he interrupted.

She turned to look up at him. "Are you sure you don't want to think about that a bit more? You sounded a bit uncertain," she said sardonically. He glared at her balefully. "It's got walls – probably a big stock of food. We could... "

"Ain't no fucking way I'm goin' to any prison," he interrupted again. "I'll freeze or starve first."

Marion contemplated him for several moments – his face was set hard. She wouldn't be moving him. "So where do _you _want to go?"

"Up in tha hills," he replied and pointed to the map.

"Why?" she asked. "What's up there?"

"Not'ing," he replied. "T'at's tha whole point – no-one ever lived t'ere, only 'untr's eva went t'ere. T'ere'll be 'eaps o' game, place to stay for tha winter and no geeks."

Marion chewed her lip, looking at his side profile – because he wouldn't look at her. "That's your sanctuary?" she asked. He looked at her suddenly. "That's the place that you go when there's no-where else to go?" she paused, looking directly at him "What about your brother?"

Merle looked away from her as suddenly as he had turned to her.

"Merle?" she prompted in his silence. "Don't you want to find him?"

"I can't figure out where he'd go" he admitted sullenly.

"What do you mean?" she frowned.

"After I... after we got sep'rated – t'ey went ta tha CDC, t'ere was a note at tha quarry. But it was gone – still burning when I got t'ere. Damn it, I don't know what he'd do from there."

Marion swallowed. The CDC gone? _So who was working on the cure_ she wondered.

"Would he lead?" she asked after a short silence. Merle looked at her with his brows raised. "Your brother – was he a leader?"

Merle snorted. "Darylina lead? Hah, he was a pussy."

She examined him – trying to imagine any kin of his being even slightly incapable. "Really?" she said, but mildly. "What if he was out of your shadow?" again he faced her, a slight frown on his face. "Well Merle, let's face it, you are somewhat of a ... _forthright_ personality. If you weren't there – would he lead the others?"

Merle considered her question. Daryl had always followed him – even when he had showed up out of blue after a decade. Daryl didn't question him – at least not out loud. There had been too much training in his youth for him to think he could ever get away with that. But it _had _been ten years. Maybe he'd grown a pair? He shook his head "No," he said slowly. "He doesn't have enough confidence in his own abilities, he would think everyone hated him."

Marion winced for the unmet Daryl. "So who would be leading?" she prompted.

"The cops," he said decisively "One of them anyway."

"OK," she nodded. "So where do you think they might go?"

It wasn't much of a contest "Fort Benning."

She nodded. "Right – so where is that?" she bent over the map again.

He leaned in, looking at the map. "Here," he pointed to it.

She whistled softly on an inward breath – there was a lot of country between them. And lots of country meant lots of the dead. "We could probably do that in a couple of weeks."

"_If_ we had fuel and food– _if_ the roads weren't clogged," he groused.

"So?" she shrugged. "We'll scavenge. Do you really think a cabin the hills in the middle of winter is a better place to be?"

"It'll be over-run,' he warned. "The military were on the front lines."

"They also had the biggest guns," she retorted. "Maybe they barricaded themselves in." _And maybe there is a way home from there._

Merle considered for a moment – he was probably just being stupid thinking Daryl would ever return to the cabin anyway. He was pussy whipped by Officer Friendly and the others – otherwise he would have come back for him. He nodded, _Fort Benning it was then_, and she smiled, folding up the map. She picked up Dog and sat in the middle of her seat, pulling the seatbelt back over.

Her stomach growled – Dog jumped up, looking around outside the window.

"Hoo?" Merle quirked an eyebrow at her. It came to him that this woman had pretty much not been without three solid (as in the whole set of the food groups) meals a day since the end of the world – _probably not her whole fuckin' life_. He on the other hand had been well seasoned to lean days, _hell lean weeks_ where his father had drunk all the money in the house and they had had to survive on what he could hunt from the nearby forest or steal from the neighbours' places. It had taken him a few years to hone skills for both situations so early on and sometimes even with his better skills, and later on Daryl's, the meal to day ratio had been pretty low.

She smiled in marginal embarrassment. "Apparently I'm a little hungry. You want something to eat?" She let the belt go and turned back over the back of the middle seat again, returning with her bag too quickly for his taste. She opened it and rustled through, offering him a choice of three muesli bars. "They're low GI," she encouraged.

His lip curled "Pass me out me bag."

She considered refusing him, but he was behind the steering wheel and he would have to twist his entire body around to get his left hand into a position to reach over the back and even then she didn't think he'd be able to reach. She put the bars down and pulled herself up again "Please Marion would you be kind enough to pass me my backpack," she muttered instead. "Of course Merle, no problem," she continued in a slightly higher tone. "Why thanks a lot Marion," she continued in a mutter as she held it out to him.

His lips stretched in a tight smile as he took the bag from her fingertips – she held the damn thing between two fingers like it was radioactive. He grabbed the zipper between his fingers and pulled – the zip moved a couple of inches, then stuck. He pushed his stump on the other end of the bag and pulled again – all he did was dislodge the bag from the seat. He swore under his breath, pushing the stump harder into the bag and reefed at the zipper again with the same result. There was a slight sound that could have included the words stubborn and mule before a hand reached over and firmly held the end of the zip. The bag came open immediately "You're welcome," she said sourly, turning back to her bag.

Marion jumped as a loaf of bread landed in her lap. She looked up at him and he shrugged. "Weren't much else I could take – but tha'll fill ya up 'til we can find somet'in' else." She smiled and opened the packet, passing him a couple of slices before taking out the same for herself and closing up the bag. She folded the top half of the middle seat down "Cupholders!" and placed the packet on top of it – Dog sniffed at it once before turning to take a portion of a crust from her.

Merle folded a slice in two and shoved half of it into his mouth. Marion pulled a piece off and chewed at it deliberately. She looked over at him and moved again, this time coming back with the flagon of water. She undid the lid and held it towards him, he put his stump through the handle and tipped it into his mouth for a few swallows before passing it back to her. She finished what was in her mouth before tipping it slowly to drink from, her bread on her lap just in front of Dog, replacing the flagon down next to the bread, sitting it so he could easily put his stump back through the handle.

She kept peeling bits off her bread, feeding every third piece to the dog on her lap, Merle shoved the last piece into his mouth. "I'm sorry Merle," she said quietly, turning to face him finally. "I kinda lost it back there."

_Ya think?_ said his expression because his mouth was too full of bread.

"That camera had the only photos of my family that I had. Without that I've got nothing to remember them by anymore – well not what they used to look like. I was angry and I took a cheap shot," she said in strengthening tones. "I'm sorry."

Merle swallowed. "'s alright" he muttered

"No it's not," she insisted. "What I said was reprehensible. And wrong –no mother ever leaves their child without a damn good reason. I don't know what your mother's was but I know that she would have agonised over it, trying to find a solution and I bet that she still regrets that she left you."

"Woman," he interrupted. "Don't worry 'bout it."

"But I do," she declared. "You had a terrible life without her. Your father beat you, and your brother, I can't imagine how hard that must have made your life..."

"Enough," he almost shouted. "Christ – your apologies are worse than being yelled at. Wha' now?" he demanded as another wince crossed her face. "I didn't even swear."

"You blasphemed – that's worse!"

"Oh Jesus fuckin' Christ!" he swore and turned the key.


	16. Chapter 16

Well this is a little long – but just didn't seem right to stop anywhere else.

Chapter 16

She splashed another handful of water on her face, the icy water tingling against her skin. She glanced up at her face _Rachel! Jenny! _in the mirror. Dark circled, tired brown eyes stared back at her, weary not only from a lack of sleep over the last few days but from horror. She sniffed, she couldn't let him see her like this. Not when he was trying to be so strong for her, hiding his fear to offer her what comfort he could – he who was hurting just as she was. She sniffed again, running her wet hands through her hair. She turned from the mirror and slid the door open – she saw his horrified face first, half lifted from the pillow. Then she heard the growl and looked down...

Marion sat up with a start, her face cold from where it leaned against the metal of the window and from the cold wind that had washed over her while she slept. Dog growled again and she lurched upright, hearing a chuckle as she frantically searched for a weapon, seeing the car empty. She glared at Merle, leaning against the bonnet of the car next to the side mirror of her door.

"Ya awake yet?" he demanded.

Marion rubbed at her good eye and then briskly through her hair. "Yep," she assured him.

The door cracked open and he stepped around. "Then git out," he ordered.

"Why?" she eyed him suspiciously.

"I need ya," he replied. "Please?" he added caustically, extending his hand to her.

Marion pursed her lips to stop them twitching into a smile, but tipped Dog off her lap and swung her legs out. She landed with a jolt and grabbed at his hand in reflex. Her other hand grabbed at the door and she rested her head against it, fighting for balance.

"Ya a'right?" he asked with something approaching concern.

_No_ she thought. _My head hurts, my eye hurts, every fucking where hurts. _"Yep," she said, straightening and looking up at him with a determined gaze.

The afternoon had progressed. There was still daylight, but it had taken on the strange hue of approaching dusk. They had obviously made the turn towards the north while she slept, onto one of the smaller back roads as they had decided. They were in the middle of a forested section and she wondered why they would have possibly stopped there, but the answer came to her as she looked ahead to the single lane bridge over a deep gully. There had been some type of altercation in the middle of the bridge between two cars _why on earth they were going in opposite directions? _and other cars had either crashed into the mess or crashed in an effort to avoid it. There was no way through.

"I need ya to drive – I'll git 'em started if I can," he was saying, leading her towards the blockage acutely conscious that his hand was still clasped under her forearm from where he had caught her, hers still on the top of his arm. She released him and he dropped her arm was dropped like it was burning. "If I can't - I need ya to hold the wheel while I push."

"I can help push," she said. "We can tie the wheel in place."

He glanced at her. She was a good half a foot shorter than him and built like she'd blow away in a stiff breeze (except for certain aspects of her anatomy of course). He knew she had muscles, he'd seen them and very briefly had felt some of them – but she seemed almost uncertain on her feet at the moment. "We'll see," he said in a non committal type tone.

Marion suppressed a sigh of relief. "We'll see" was a clear "no" in her language and despite wanting to help she couldn't be upset that he didn't need her at the moment. She really was feeling like death warmed up. "Are there any dead in there?" she asked warily as they approached the vehicles, pressing one hand's fingers between the other forefinger and thumb to fight against the ache in her head.

"Not no more," he replied.

"What?" she demanded, stopping. He paused and turned to look at her with a puzzled frown. "You didn't think perhaps that you should wake me?"

"Why?" he shrugged. "T'ere was only one o' 'em."

"And what if there'd been two?" she demanded. _Not to mention of course me sleeping next to an open window. _"What if there'd been three, or four, five or thirty or so? Look at how many vehicles there are here – you reckon they only had one person in them each?"

She had a point he realised. But he was used to taking care of himself, used to being alone even in his youth. Daryl had followed him around like a bad smell for a few years of course, and funnily enough most of the time he hadn't minded – although once he set his eyes on Molly Bergman...

"I'm here Merle," Marion continued and he focused back to her. _Damn if she didn't have as good a rack as Molly, although she didn't show off quite as much_. "Like it or not, you've now got a bit of a limitation – I can at least watch your back." She'd said the wrong thing she realised, seeing his face change from a slight hint of amusement to the hard mask. She sighed.

She watched as Merle popped the bonnet and fiddled with some wires, the engine purred to life – Dog bounced in as she hopped into the car and reversed it to the side of the road. He pointed to a second one as she and Dog returned and she hopped in and turned the key that had been left in the ignition. The third was banged up and had resisted his efforts and she slid behind the wheel to his instructions "little movements otherwise the steering wheel'll lock." He threw his vest onto the bonnet, braced his hand against the A pillar, his stump on the window base and heaved.

Marion watched as his muscles in his arms flexed – for a moment there was no movement and then slowly the car rolled back. She flicked her gaze to the other side of the car, turning the wheel slightly to curve the car out of its spot in the block towards a space next to one of the earlier moved cars. She glanced again at Merle – his head was down and she could see the muscles in his back bunching through the tight cotton of the t-shirt.

"Oi," he muttered and she quickly put on the brakes, stopping the vehicle from hitting their car. It jolted to a stop and Dog fell forward into the footwell with a yip. "Would ya mind keepin' to tha matter at 'and" he said sarcastically. "This ain't no time for daydreaming."

"Sorry," she muttered, resisting a grin. _Get a grip Marion._

"Are ya a'right or not?" he demanded, looking at her. She was slightly pale and her eye – the good one – was looking heavy.

She nodded. "Just tired – and I have a headache," she added as his narrowed gaze focused harder on her. "Come on – the sooner we get this done, the sooner I can get back to sleep."

He nodded, opening her door ready to catch as she slid out. She came out almost stably though and walked with some semblance of control to the next vehicle. There was no key but he was able to hotwire this one and while it made a horrible squeaking sound that made him look around for more geeks, she was able to drive it back behind their own car. Another three followed under his effort and she kept her eye carefully on the rearview mirror throughout. He led her through the rest of the vehicles to the other end of the snarl and they repeated the process. Dog sniffed and planted himself in the last of the sun patches on the road, sitting up with his eyes closed and nose twitching at the slight scents drifting around.

Merle leant against the bridge while she moved the last two cars which had keys out of the way, taking a few breaths. He glanced down at the creek behind him and his brow lifted. He turned around the guardrail and wandered down the side of the gully, kicking the ground to test for its stability and eyeing off the picnic table and fireplace. He looked around amongst the trees carefully, his hand on his knife, but it was all quiet. It was as good a place as any he figured to spend the night – close to water and out of sight of any others who may be travelling the roads. "Merle?" he heard her call uncertainly from above him.

"'ere," he replied, turning to walk back up the slope. He saw her head pop over the top of the guardrail and heard her sigh in relief. _That's got to be a first_. "Thought we could spend tha night 'ere," he said. "Tha creek's clean and easy got to, t'ere's a fireplace as well that we could set a fire in."

He reversed the car into the spot, leaving it in 4WD and in gear in case they needed to make a quick getaway then jogged back up to the road where she was occupied searching the cars. He joined her but with the exception of a ripped tarpaulin, a guitar and a few boxes of photo albums, which Marion teared up at, there wasn't that much of substance. Obviously the crash hadn't been fatal and whoever had been involved had been able to get the majority of their gear away from the place – or other survivors had already scavenged through. He grabbed a couple of pieces of chewing gum and munched on them, holding the packet out to her almost absently as she came to stand next to him.

Marion took the packet with a murmured word of thanks, closing her eyes at the rush of sugar and moisture with the first bite. Merle pushed himself off the vehicle to head down to the car and she followed – too abruptly and the pain in her head which had sunk to a dull hammering at the base of her neck exploded to a herd of elephants. She moaned and staggered – putting out her hands to catch herself. They hit Merle's arms as he spun back towards her at the sound and she grabbed them hard, digging her nails in to try and maintain some verticality.

"Fuckin' hell," muttered a voice in her ear. "Ya got concussion."

"No," she shook her head and then wished that she hadn't as the herd of elephants was joined by the rampaging rhinos. She felt herself being lowered to the ground and her good eye was pried apart by a pair of rough fingers. She put her hands up weakly, these were brushed aside and her bad eye was, gently, pried apart.

Merle frowned – her pupils looked about right to him. Her cheek was swollen but it had subsided from the previous night and even her eye was losing fluid. She was pale and it was obvious that her head was killing her. "Ya must have," he replied. "He hit ya pretty 'ard woman."

"I am aware of that," she flashed back caustically. "I just need to have a sleep."

"Don't t'ink people wit' concussion are meant to sleep," he said, trying remembering what the doctor had told him the first, and only, time he'd taken Daryl to the hospital after pa had belted him around the head. The beating they'd both received after social services had left had been memorable even without the scars that had been left on both of them.

"I don't have concussion," she said with some spirit.

"Ya have a migraine then?" he demanded. "Ya look like you're goin' ta puke – people with migraines puke."

Marion groaned. "I'm not going to spew – it's not a migraine."

"Then wha' the fuck is wrong wit' ya?" he demanded, bracing her torso against his bent leg.

"It's a caffeine headache," she responded reluctantly, looking up at him through one and a bit eyes.

He frowned. "But ya haven't 'ad any caffeine."

"Hence the headache," she replied.

"But ya don't drink coffee," he continued, trying to figure out what she was on. "Ya bin popping pills?" _because in that case he might have something..._

"No," she snorted and then winced. "It's the chocolate."

He stared at her for several moments, finally bursting out "Ya fuckin' with me?"

The sheer outrage tinged with perhaps a touch of disgust in his voice made her laugh despite herself and a stab of pain lanced through her head. "Not a snowflake's" she groaned.

"Well fuckin' hell," he exclaimed. He pushed her up a little and stood, hauling her to her feet. "Come on then junkie – you can sleep it off down at tha car."

She wobbled as she stood, grasping his arm while she waited for the world to stop spinning. She heard another curse and once again she felt a blow in her belly and she was tipped upside down. "You know," she remarked to Dog as he trotted behind her. "Mills and Boon has a lot to answer for. Nothing," she added in a slightly different tone at a questioning bark from Merle. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist to stop her torso bouncing quite as much, resting her head against his rear end and closing her eyes.

Her hands rested just above his belt and his breath caught. _Seriously?_ mocked an internal voice and he growled at it. He paced down the slope and opened the car's back door, sitting her down carefully at the edge and catching her head as she came up and over his shoulder. She smiled weakly at him before pulling herself along the seat as he grabbed out his backpack and the weapons bag – she was asleep even before he threw his jacket over her and closed the door. "Stay – on guard," he ordered Dog and the animal jumped onto the middle seat at the front, pricking his ears as he watched the man fade into the trees.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

She splashed another handful of water on her face, the icy water tingling against her skin. She glanced up at her face _Rachel! Jenny! _in the mirror. Dark circled, tired brown eyes stared back at her, weary not only from a lack of sleep over the last few days but from horror. She sniffed, she couldn't let him see her like this. Not when he was trying to be so strong for her, hiding his fear to offer her what comfort he could – he who was hurting just as she was. She sniffed again, running her wet hands through her hair. She turned from the mirror and slid the door open – she saw his horrified face first, half lifted from the pillow. Then she heard the growl and looked down, stepping back with a whimper as her youngest daughter advanced on her – the side of her neck missing and showing a gaping hole with bite and tear marks around the outside. She hit the back of the bath and stumbled, falling half into the bath with her legs half in the air as her child growled in anticipation of the meal.

Marion sat up suddenly, and grabbed at her head, groaning at the pain that reactivated with her movement. It had subsided a little though and she was able to focus, at least with one eye, on her surroundings. _The car, back seat, night, fire_. There was a thump, thump as Dog welcomed her and she stretched out a hand to give him a pat. She shivered as a breeze floated into the open window and scooted over to the door.

Merle glanced up from the fire, his eyes narrowing as she walked over to him. She looked stable enough but he couldn't see her face well enough in the light provided by the low flames. "Ya feelin' betta?" he asked as she sat down next to him, wrapping his jacket around her.

"A little," she smiled. "It's safe enough for a fire" she left the statement hovering almost question like.

"T'ere's not'ing out there," he replied. "Besides ya need some protein and I didn't t'ink ya could handle raw squirrel."

She swallowed, not sure whether she could handle cooked squirrel – but she did have to admit that the smell wafting from the carcass (for which she was grateful didn't look at all squirrel like) was quite appetising. Dog almost pranced around, leaning in to sniff at the fire and then jumping back as the heat singed his nose. He sat back on her feet, his tail thumping against Merle's foot.

Merle glared at the dog and lifted his foot a little. Dog jumped up and scooted back to Marion, baring his lip in a silent growl as he looked back at Merle, then turned back to the fire to watch the makeshift spit turning around and around. Merle grimaced back at the dog, but smoothed over his face as Marion looked back at him, offering her a smile. She smiled back but in slight confusion – _probably never seen anyone tweaking before_ he thought. He'd only just taken enough to take the edge off, to get him a little air without entirely floating off. She'd been out to it, in no condition to look after herself and he'd almost replaced the packet back in the bag. But the urge had been too strong _not that he was addicted, he just liked his shit_. He was on his way down now, but he could still feel the warmth trickling through his veins.

_Tastes like chicken_ she thought in amusement as she chewed tentatively on a piece, _although perhaps somewhat gamier_. Dog certainly seemed to enjoy it as he wolfed down his allocated portion in a manner quite unlike his normal eating style. She watched Merle out of the corner of her eye, there was something different about him tonight, he seemed... _freer_. Like he wasn't concerned about maintaining the hard shell around himself.

Merle frowned in disapproval as he watched her break off some of her portion to give the dog, but she finished off the rest of it so he refrained from comment. _Have to catch two next time_ he decided, although it had been hard enough to get one of them while throwing with his wrong hand.

The night was getting colder and she was shivering even in his jacket, plus while he hadn't seen any evidence of geeks he thought that the car would be the better place to sleep. She hopped into the front seat and he stopped, frowning. She turned to look at him "You won't fit in the front Merle," she told him with some justification. _Oh nice brother – take the comfy pew!_ Merle ignored the inner voice – if she wanted to give him room to stretch out then he wasn't going to be stupid enough to argue with her. He climbed into the back seat, propping his torso against the back passenger seat with the rifle balanced against the open window. He heard Marion lock the doors from her position behind the steering wheel, curling her legs up around herself and snuggling as best she should against back of the seat with the picnic blanket over her. Dog waited until she was settled and then hopped lightly into her lap, turning around twice before finding the space in front of her hips with his head on her legs.

"Goodnight Merle," she said quietly after a few moments of silence.

"Night sugartits," he grunted back. He heard her sigh and his mouth twitched. He shuffled a bit, finding a place for his shoulders to fit against the door and the back of the seat. He closed his eyes and sighed.

There was silence except for their breathing, hers slow and deliberate, Dog's softer and faster and with a hint of a snore. _Winter was coming_ he thought, as he started to drop off, _birds are too quiet_.

"Merle" she said quietly.

He opened his eyes. "Wha'?"

There was a hesitation. "I'm cold."

_Of course you are_. "We don't have any more blankets woman." He could feel the cold attacking his chest despite his vest, and his arms were goosebumped.

"I know," she replied. "Could I ... is there room with you?"

His brow lifted and he lifted his head. "Com' on t'en," he sighed.

She came over the back of the seat rather than open the door and let in more cold and landed on his legs. "Sorry," she murmured at his grunt and moved up along him until her chest was against his. He looked at her, he could just make out her face in the darkness. She grabbed the bottom of her lip between her teeth and his eyes snapped to them. "Umm," she breathed. "Shall I perhaps get behind you?"

"Prob'ly best," he huffed back. He stared at her, her head was lifted and he could see down her neck to her bustline – where there wasn't enough light but his memory was good enough. He could feel his body awakening. He looked back at her face and saw her brows lifted. "Oh," he muttered and lifted up a little. She slid her body along the back of the seat, sandwiching herself between his body and the seat, pulling his jacket off and placing it across his waist.

_This was a new type of torture _he decided as she wriggled her hips into a position behind him, her knees pressed up to his and her boots under his. One arm was wedged underneath his torso and her head propped onto his chest – after a slight hesitation her other arm came over and rested against his chest. She was warm and soft and he could feel _every_ bit of her, she'd obviously taken off her bra at some stage – and his body was reacting to it, more easily with the remnants of the drug rushing through his system. He shifted slightly, turning his hips away from her a little more so that she didn't see the evidence of his arousal.

There was a flash of white as Dog leapt over the front seat, landing in the footwell. He lifted his front legs to the seat, sniffing up at Merle's jacket. Merle growled quietly and Dog's ears dropped a little. He turned away and leapt up delicately, stepping over Merle to Marion's legs, curling over the top of them and laying his head down with a sigh.

_Tha night was just gettin' betta and betta_ decided Merle and resolutely closed his eyes.

Marion listened to the thump thump of his heart beat beneath her ear. She was warm now, except for two vital areas. The breeze zipped in through the window, catching her hand and she bit her lip. The jacket was a bit low for protection, she would have to move her hand to his groin _and she had absolutely no intention of doing that_ she told herself resolutely. She lifted her head slightly, glancing up at him – his eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply. She edged her hand towards a gap between his vest lacing, angling it through and smiling as his heat hit the bottom of her hand and the vest protected the top of her hand from the cold air. She laid her head down and closed her eyes, moving slightly to put her shoulder in a better position.

"Holy fuckin' Christ," exploded Merle as her hand grazed some exposed skin of his back, sitting upright. He turned to Marion who'd been pulled up by his movement and was wedged by him against the seat. Dog yipped, standing with his hackles up. "Ya hand is like fuckin' ice!"

"Sorry," she murmured, rubbing them together and blowing on them. "You know what they say though – cold hands, cold feet – warm heart."

_Her feet were than cold? _"Well your heart must be burnin' up," he cursed. "Git ya fuckin' boots off."

"But what if we have to move quickly?" she questioned, pulling herself past him to reach forward to undo her boots.

"Ya'll get further with no shoes t'an wit' frostbit toes," he groused, reaching over her to pull at his own laces. He pulled the wrong one and he cursed, using his toes to push the boots off. Dog yipped as one almost landed on him. Merle reached down and rubbed briskly at one of her feet and then the other. He lay back and pulled her back towards him, dragging the jacket up so it was up and over her shoulders. She snuggled down next to him again, curling one hand into his t-shirt and the other half tucked underneath his rear end. He laid his arm around her, his hand curling automatically around her elbow.

Dog sniffed and jumped up again, finding the entangled feet somewhat different and turning around three times before he found a spot to lay himself down on. Merle opened his eyes narrowly and glared. The dog met his gaze and then dropped his head onto Merle's ankle. _Well at least the furball was keeping his feet warm_ he decided and closed his eyes.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Please forgive any inaccuracies in regards to the taste of squirrel and the effects of drug use. I am not experienced in either!


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"You found my broadsword?" she exclaimed.

She was hanging over the back seat again, her butt up level with his face. She'd been up and down that many times that morning though that he barely cast it a glance. First she'd wanted the map and had had to retrieve it from where she'd been looking at it early in the morning. That had kept her occupied for a while, taking his odometer reading and working out which creek exactly they had parked next to the night before and what options they had coming up. None of the names sounded familiar to him, all tinpot towns probably comprising an old garage and shop which would have acted as a chemist, post office and grocery store all in one. Then she'd been back over to grab his boots which he'd got the shits with in the morning when he'd tried to put them on. His attempts last night to undo the knots had only been exacerbated this morning by his increasingly frustrated attempts to pull apart the laces with one hand full of stubby fingernails. He'd ended up storming out in his bare feet and she'd been sensible enough not to say anything about it. Undoing the knots had kept her busy for a while, but now they sat on the floor between them ready for him to put on _she'd even made the laces even_. Then she'd been over to get them some more bread to eat and then, to provide an excuse for her to turn her wet underwear that she thought he didn't know about she had grabbed a tin of canned pears Merle would have been happy digging his fingers into the can, but one hand was needed to keep the wheel in place _and no I don't need you to drive for a bit _on the road so she'd gone back over to find something that she could use to share the tin with him, coming back with a knife. Dog had sniffed once at her portion of pear and turned up his nose. She'd then decided that she would check the guns to make sure nothing empty had made it back into the bag and that was when she'd made her discovery.

"Yep," he nodded, sucking a couple of drips off the back of his hand. "Got it off a geek."

"A geek?" she sat back down, bringing the sword back with her and propping it against her knee. She stared at him in confusion as she pulled the seatbelt over.

"One of them dead things," he explained.

"I understand your terminology," she shook her head, _probably the first dead he encountered was a slim young man with coke bottle glasses,_ not seeing his sideways glare. "I don't understand though – why would a _geek_ pick up my sword?" She chewed on her lip. "Have you ever seen them interested in anything except food?"

"Ya mean people?" he clarified sourly and she shrugged. "Na – but t'at don't mean he didn't like it b'fore he was bit."

"He was bitten?" she queried and her face cleared a little. She undid the belt and dived back over the seat, Merle looked and heard Dog growl almost routinely. She came back over again, a handful of guns and bullet boxes in her hands. She placed them on her lap and pulled the belt over, clicking it into place.

"Wha' tha fuck you bother for?" he demanded.

She looked up, her frown more of puzzlement than chastisement at his language.

"Ya reckon I can't driv 'cause I have one 'and or wha'?"

She giggled as she realised what he was on about. "Just habit I guess." She saw his sideways glance this time because she was looking towards him. Her eye had improved dramatically overnight, she was still several colours of the rainbow but the swelling was down and she had about half vision through the eye. She'd admitted to still having a headache still, but had assured him it was getting better. "We have to at home – you can lose your license if you and your passenger don't have them on." Merle snorted and her voice dropped to one of indignation. "They make us vote too – it's _compulsory_." She nodded significantly as he looked at her. His eyes narrowed and she giggled. "Voting's a pain in the arse, especially when you have three tiers of government to vote for and the local council in particular are full of peanuts but I suppose you really can't complain unless you've been part of the decision and _everyone_ likes to complain about politicians. But the seatbelts – _they _make sense" and she looked pointedly at his belt hanging loosely against the door.

Merle just gave her a glare and she chuckled again, sitting her legs up on the dash and emptying some bullets into her lap. She picked up a gun, Merle cleared his throat and she glanced up – he looked pointedly at the barrel pointed towards him and with a mumbled apology she turned the gun the other way, checking the safety and then pulling out the magazine. "Hey" he said and putting his stump on the wheel reached for the gun. She handed it over and by spreading his fingers he was able to pull the barrel back and drop a bullet out of the chamber. He handed back the gun with a look, she shrugged and gave him another mumbled apology. She pulled her belt out a little and leaned over towards him, he almost pushed her backwards and went feeling for the bullet himself. _That's the last fuckin' thing he needed. _He'd woken warm and comfortable with her soft curves pressed against him, her head resting on his chest and her hand slightly curled in his vest and shirt. It was not a position that he used to – he never hung around the women he bedded _and fuck he hadn't even bedded this one!_ long enough to actually sleep with them – normally he was bedding them in a place where one _didn't _sleep – the toilet, the wall in the alley, his car, her husband's bed. So he'd woken up with a raging erection, which because of her position behind him she remained blissfully unaware of and he'd dragged himself up and out of the car. She'd protested then, curling back under his jacket in an attempt to reclaim some warmth, but the blast of cold air had got her up and at the fire. He'd taken himself out in the woods to deal with his issue, but his left hand just wasn't quite co-ordinated enough. The cold and the need for a piss had dealt with it though and he had returned to camp in an even more ornery mood than normal.

"Was he one of them?" she asked after a while of working through the guns and Merle blinked, dragging his thoughts back from where they had wandered ahead of them, thinking of what they needed to get and how they were going to get there. "The man with my sword," she clarified as she realised that he didn't have a clue what she was on about. "Was he one of the ones who stormed the _Palace._"

Merle nodded, glancing at her. "Why?"

"Well why didn't they kill him?" she asked. "The others."

"T'ey'd 'ad a go," he replied grimly. "His head was half cut off."

"But you know only a head shot does it?" she asked after a grimace of distaste at the imagery. "Wouldn't they?"

"T'ey might not 'ave 'ad time to take a proper shot," he responded harshly. "How tha fuck would I know wha' t'ey were doin'?"

She frowned and stared out at the window for several minutes. He gave her a glare, but she wasn't paying him any attention, absently humming to herself, playing idly with a couple of bullets.

"I just don't understand," she said finally and he threw his head back against the chair. "No, listen," she said to him and he offered her a glance before turning back to the road. It was basically clear, but there was an occasional car stalled in the middle and they had seen a few geeks floating aimlessly around. It was also a typical country road with lots of bends and twists, and sometimes full on hairpins around fencelines. His stump was getting sore from changing gears so often. "He was alive when he picked up the sword – granted. Then he gets bitten somehow and he turns – how quick have you seen that happen? "

"T'ey can turn in less than ten minutes," he replied.

"After they're dead," she nodded. Clearly that timing wasn't a surprise to her. "But he had to _die_ first," she stressed. "Then he turned. Then they tried to kill him – all before dawn."

"Maybe he died first, then got bit."

She turned to face him. "You reckon the disease can infect you after you're already dead?"

"Do I look like a fuckin' scientist to ya bitch?" he snapped. "Wha' does it matta?"

She shrugged. "Just curious, that's all," she said in a small voice.

Merle rolled his eyes _fuck_. "I don't know woman. I'm busy keepin' the geeks off me wit'out worrying where t'ey comin' from."

She nodded in acknowledgment of his position, but her mind kept worrying at the problem. The tall _geek_ that she had taken down – he'd looked familiar. She'd seen him before, but she couldn't think of where – her mouth opened but then she shut it again. He was frustrated enough with her, she didn't want to piss him off – at least not anymore.

They travelled in virtual silence for some time, broken only by her quiet bursts of humming or song which stopped as soon as she realised that she was doing it. Eventually she slid down the seat a little and dozed off again.

She woke as the car pulled to a stop, lifting her head with a jerk and an automatically leaning away from the open window as her hand tightened on the broadsword.

"'s alright," he said softly near her ear and she relaxed, straightening in her seat. They had come to an intersection, it almost looked like some type of roadblock. There were a number of cars parked neatly on the side, but there were others haphazardly strewn across the road. In the middle sat a HMMVEE, an American flag fluttering vaguely from the aerial, a large weapon hanging drunkenly from the top. There were some bodies visible in the forefront, but nothing was moving.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

Merle looked at her in surprise. "That there might be supplies in there, maybe a few more weapons. I could fit that 50cal to the roof." They'd had toast and baked beans this morning and it had pretty much halved off what they had.

Marion rolled her eyes _Yanks and their guns_ but she merely undid her seat belt and opened the door. She felt a touch on her arm and looked over to him.

"Whada ya t'ink ya doin'?" he demanded.

"Getting out to take a look," she replied. "I _can_ handle myself Merle, despite all recent evidence to the contrary I actually managed to survive the end of the world ok." She lifted the blade. "The sooner we get this over and done with, the sooner we can keep on going."

He hesitated, wondering absently why he was worried _it's not like 'cared' for her, he just didn't want to have wasted all his effort getting her this far_. He nodded. "Grab a couple of guns, yes," he nodded even as her mouth opened. "we'll try and stay silent, but the sword is only good for close quarter work and the crossbow is too slow to reload."

Reminded of that weapon Marion opened the back door to find it, nocking an arrow and then hanging it over her shoulder. She grabbed two handguns and tucked them into her waistline, turning to hand Merle another two as he came up behind her. He leaned in and grabbed yet another two – her brows quirked with amusement _his pants will fall down soon!_ as well as the shotgun. They'd all been loaded and he shut the door – Dog leapt out the open window and frisked along the edge of the road, sniffing at a car's tyres before cocking his leg.

Marion kept half an eye on Merle as he stalked ahead of her and to the side. Occasionally he would throw her a hand signal, she had no idea what they meant so ignored them and kept on walking. The hiss that finally caught her attention was savage and he held up his fist. She shrugged and the signal he gave her was not at all difficult to interpret. She frowned at him, waiting until he turned before lifting her finger in a universal sign, but lowered it quickly as he turned back to her. His eyes narrowed but he indicated with his head that it was safe to move forward and she moved off fluidly.

The first car she came across had been carefully parked and after a quick glance she could see that there would be nothing in it. The same was true for the second, but the third had skidded to a halt and one of the doors was still open. She eased up to it, her sword balanced for a strike – but the car was empty of any living or dead and she relaxed slightly, leaning in and smiling at the bags packed in the rear seat. Dog growled behind her and she whirled, but he was looking away from them and she climbed up onto the edge of the car to look over the top. It shuffled slowly, part of its leg missing and an arm dangling from one tendon only, angling towards where Merle was sorting through a car. It wasn't all that close and Marion was confident that he would hear it, but she whistled softly anyway. Merle straightened and saw the geek, she saw him consider the distance, the speed it was moving, its placement amongst the vehicles and then there was a flash – and the geek dropped to the ground with a knife in its eye. He met hers and nodded once, then turned back to whatever he had found. "You're welcome," she replied softly, lowering herself back to the ground and turning to look amongst the other vehicles.

It was a good half hour before she found it – a black limousine with an Australian flag on its aerial. It had crashed, the windows shattered and in a couple of cases gone entirely. She approached it cautiously, leaning the crossbow in first before following with her torso. There was splatters of blood everywhere and she grimaced, but then she saw the briefcase. She pulled back so that she could open the door, and flipped the case open, sorting through the manilla folders, pausing with wonder as she found them: Arnold – Benjamin Lee, Marion Jane, Rachel Elizabeth, Jennifer Maree. All of their details were there, their age, their height, their weight _crikey, she'd been that much? And when had the government found that out? _and in the top right hand side was a photo. They were passport photos, so not the best _but at least they were alive. _She swallowed, folding the papers carefully so that the photos were undisturbed and placed them into her pocket.

"Wha' tha fuck?" demanded a voice and she jumped, turning out of the door to see Merle standing immediately behind her.

"They were coming," she said simply, her eyes shimmering slightly.

He looked at her for several moments then nodded. "Don't go down that end," he cautioned gruffly and turned away to continue the sweep.

Dog whined and she looked down at him. "They were coming," she repeated in a whisper. He jumped up to place his head into her hand and she rubbed it a couple of times. She sniffed determinedly and turned away from the door, following Merle's direction but on the other side of the vehicles. She was almost to the end of the roadblock, Merle had in fact declared it all clear and was busy sorting through a vehicle, when she saw him.

He had been a tall man, built wide across the shoulders with no spare flesh anywhere and muscles developed over many years. He wore the typical fatigues tight around his waist but easy flowing over anything that might need to move. His gun was at his side, not far from his hand. But if he had intended to finish it neatly he had badly miscounted, perhaps he had never meant to but had kept on fighting to the absolute last bullet. There were any number of bodies around him, all shot between the eyes ranging from more than 30metres away to the last that had landed almost on top of him. Whatever ones he hadn't got though had taken him down in a heap – his ribs were showing the cavern that used to be his chest, one arm was missing entirely and she could see the bones of his legs where chunks of the muscle had been ripped away.

The hand twitched slightly and Dog growled, but she moved forward, eyeing the beret that had fallen onto the ground. She picked it up and gently laid it over the space his heart would have been. The head moved, and Dog growled again. Marion smiled, leaning forward to reach for the Australian flag Velcroed to his uniform. "Aussie, Aussie, Aussie," she muttered as the figure groaned, starting to stir. She lifted the sword and drove it through his eyeball and he subsided with a shudder. "Oi, Oi, Oi."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Marion sorted through the bag of clothes in the back of the tray, holding up a couple of items against her to check for sizing. "Layering," she said to Dog. "That's the fashion, isn't it?" The bags had been packed in spring, the clothes were not made for the cold nights and the pending cold days. She heard another curse from where Merle was putting a fire together "I don't want another crick in me neck," he'd told her. "We got some blankets now, may as well camp outside." They'd found a roadside stop after they'd left the traffic jam and he'd built up some rocks into an enclosure while she had collected timber. She was finding that there wasn't much in the way of clothing for her, apparently the country women from the area were built on more generous lines than she was and she repacked most of it, carefully zipping up the suitcases and placing them next to a tree for any future scavengers. In the end while she was able to put aside a cardigan and a couple of shirts, she was still left with no spare underwear. There were some more options for Merle, even if most were Australian khaki and she had managed to find a couple of pairs of trousers that should fit him _and hadn't his eyes bugged when she had tried them around his waist for fit_ she smiled to herself. The gun was lying in the back of the tray, a whole rack of ammunition was in the backseat to protect it from the weather. She wondered briefly if she would be expected to man it out the window or if he would try and set it up on the roof.

There was another curse and she turned. "Oi honeypouch" he said "git ova 'ere."

She gritted her teeth but made her way to him. "What?" she demanded.

He looked at her in surprise _what got her panties in a twist? _"I need to show ya 'ow to start a fire."

Her brows twitched and she lowered herself to her knees, looking at the twig, piece of bark and dried grass that he had in front of him, a small tepee of twigs and sticks inside the shelter of rocks that he had constructed. "Ok," she nodded.

"Put ya 'ands at the top of this stick," he instructed. "Roll ya hands together – faster. Start back up at tha top – faster – ya 'ave ta make spark on tha bark. Right, now ya've got smoke, blow, very gently, gently – ya don't want ta blow it out."

Marion leaned over with his instructions and blew – the smoke faded and the grass glowed red.

"Right – now put it in 'ere," he instructed. "Blow again, oh fuck" he complained as the slight breeze caught the budding flame and extinguished it. "'salright, just git it back out – start ova."

Marion shook her head, standing.

"Wha' tha fuck ya t'ink ya doing?" he exploded, standing to grab her arm. "Tha fire won't start by itself ya know? Ya want a fire ta keep warm or not?"

She looked at his hand and then up at him, a smile teasing around her lips. "I thought I might just use the matches."

Merle ground his teeth as she returned to the car, extracting her bag and returning with a packet of matches. "Ya 'ad t'em all tha time and ya let me go all t'rough that?"

She shrugged, pushing the dried grass and leaves into the tepee and extracting a match. "I didn't know how to do it. Might not always have matches," she struck a match – it was snuffed by the slight breeze and she gave him a significant glance. He growled slightly but dropped down beside her, shuffling in close, using his bulk to shield the fire from the breeze. She bent over, striking the match almost on top of the fire. The flame was uncertain but she moved a twig into the flame, then another as it strengthened, then another and another. Finally she sat up and found herself much closer to Merle than she expected. She swallowed suddenly, looking at his lips _all she had to do was lean forward_ – she was pretty confident that he would take over from there. _Why not?_ asked one voice and her breath caught. She looked up, meeting his blue eyes which almost shone with intensity – with lust.

Merle stood up abruptly. "Keep it goin'," he instructed. "I'll go and see wha' I can find ta eat." He stalked off, pausing only to grab his backpack before disappearing.

Marion took a breath. "Probably best," she admitted to Dog. There was nothing that she and Merle shared, no similarities, no shared views, no hobbies (if that was even relevant nowadays). He was rough, tough, he swore every second word and he used his physical presence as the conclusion to every argument. While she would like to think that she wouldn't actually cross to the other side of the street, she would have definitely avoided eye contact and almost certainly turned tail if he'd been with similar looking friends. He screamed danger from every pore. _You would never have had even looked at him except for the shit you were in. Whatever it is that you think you're feeling - it's just reaction to the high intensity situation_ the voice concluded and hastily shushed the appropriate quote from Sandra Bullock (1). "Come on," she nodded at Dog and stood, reaching for the cross bow and turning the opposite way from where Merle had gone.

He returned as the sun started to sink below the horizon. "Hey sugartits," he called, looking around the fire – which was burning steadily – and not seeing her. He heard a thunk and looked up, dropping his backpack near the wheel of the car with the rabbit and squirrel that he had managed to bring down. He was still buzzing pleasantly, but he'd only had a small dose – just enough to distract his mind from her. She'd been so close _all he'd had to do was lean in_. But then he'd met her eyes, well her one and a half eyes, and he'd seen the yellowing flesh _ya finest work brother_. He heard another thunk and slowed, his hand going to the gun in his waistband. He heard a growl and relaxed, seeing Dog sitting at the base of her feet, tracking his eyes up through her stance _pretty close to being right_ to where her arms were still extending the crossbow in his direction. He froze, but she was already turning away with a muttered curse about sneaking up on her and faced the target again. She let the bolt fly and there was another thunk sound.

"Not bad woman," he nodded, stalking forward. "Ya need ta lift tha' 'and higher, lessens tha recoil."

"I can't," she admitted, dropping the bow to her hips. "The ruddy thing is so heavy."

Merle smiled grimly, remembering Daryl's complaint after the first day of shooting. Of course he'd only been about 8 at the time – Merle hadn't been sympathetic. "Ya need to work on ya muscles then. Tha geeks won't slow down just 'cause ya sore."

"It's amazing what a bit of adrenalin will do," she murmured, stepping away slightly from the enclosure of his arms. The scent emanating from him wasn't exactly unpleasant, but it was somewhat overpowering. "How'd you go?"

"Rabbit and squirrel," he said shortly, dropping his hands to his sides. "T'ere's some deer spore out t'ere too, would be worth gitting up early to see if we can git one." She nodded. "Now come and 'old this rabbit while I gut it."

"Oh joy," she murmured, following him back to the camp.

Gutting of rabbits had not gotten any more pleasant since the years before when she used to hold the torch while her father did the job. Being up close actually gave her some added experiences in sound and smell that she could have well done without. By sheer will power she had refused to gag and had resolutely held her hand steady and her eyes stayed on the top of his head as he bent to the task. The cooked rabbit however was something different, and while the taste was strange to her palate she had no problem eating her entire portion – even going so far as to suck the juices off her fingers.

Merle's eyes darkened at the sight. _Who are ya kidding_ he wondered. There was no way that a woman like her would have even looked at him before. She was polite, refined, educated – everything he was not. She had a word for everything, could express herself without resorting to swearing or violence _well mostly anyway_ he thought of the scene in the motel. She'd had a family, a husband and kids, she'd seen them die and still bore the scars. The last thing she'd consider was a roll in the hay with trailer park trash like him. He sniffed and reached down for the last bit of squirrel – reaching over and extending it to Dog. Wide brown eyes – two pairs – looked at him in disbelief, but Dog reached out and took the meat and he looked up to the other pair. "Ya'll only give him your bit anyway – ya need ya strength if ya going to come 'unting wit' me tomorra."

"Thanks," she murmured. She reached over the grab the water flagon – they'd put a dent in it so she took only a little amount.

"Drink. I filled up tha oven," he said and she frowned at him. "It's boiling away – I'll cool it overnight and refill the flagon."

She nodded and had another mouthful, but left the remainder for him. She stood and went to the back door of the car, reaching into her bag for the now dry underwear and some bathing supplies that she had found in one of the cars. She grabbed one of the torches and walked back to him, reaching for the cross bow. "Just going to the creek." He nodded, standing and she turned back to him with a puzzled look.

"Ya ain't goin' out into the night by yaself," he said. He saw the hands come up to her hips and the mouth open. "We just had meat cookin' on the fire sweetcheeks – anyt'ing coulda smelt that and be on its way – geeks, wolves, bears, lions."

She glared at him. He had a point, although she suspected that he had laboured it more than a little. "You are not coming with me while I have a bath – or whatever I can manage in the creek," she added discontentedly.

_Missing ya shower bitch?_ he smirked. She saw the smirk and riled up immediately. "I ain't off'ring to wash ya back honeypouch," he interjected. "Just makin' sure not'in' eats ya. Although if ya ask nicely..."

She poked her tongue out at him and turned on her heel, gritting her teeth as she heard him follow. Dog bounced along in front of her, darting this way and that after the nimble squirrels without even the remotest chance of success and she wondered how Merle had managed to kill them. It wasn't that far to the creek and she knelt down by the edge. Merle stepped past her to the other side where he had a quick look around. She waited until he returned, her arms crossed in front of her but the crossbow within easy reach, and he smirked as he walked past her. She turned to watch him, he went to the other side of a tree and leant against it casually. She turned back to the creek, gripping the bottom of her shirt – she hesitated, turning towards him again, but he wasn't looking at her. _Fuck it_ she decided and dragged her shirt up over her head and unhooked her bra to slide it off. The cold air immediately hardened her nipples and she shivered, leaning in towards the water and wetting a sponge, rubbing it over herself briskly. She reached back and squeezed a little of the body wash onto the sponge and then repeated the process, then a third time with just water.

Merle almost groaned as he watched the sponge go over her body yet again. He snapped his gaze back away as Dog growled and Marion looked over her shoulder. He waited for a while and then turned his gaze slightly – to where he could legitimately say he was on lookout but also so his peripheral vision could determine whether she was still looking at him. He instead saw her standing, wearing a long sleeve shirt that encased her top half and _fucking stark _naked from the waist down and bent over as she glided the sponge up over her thigh and back down again. His mouth opened as she changed position and bent down to reach her other ankle.

Marion turned her head at the noise behind her. "What is it?" she asked.

"Not'ing," was the gruff response. "Just a critter. Are ya almost done or what?"

"Another minute," she promised and finished sponging off. She dried her lower half briskly and dressed in her spare undies, pulling the same pants on again. She gave her used underwear a quick wash and made her way to his side. He looked down at her and then suddenly at the towel and body wash that she pushed into his chest. "I'll bring you back some clean clothes," she promised.

Merle snorted as she walked off, but then turned towards the creek. Getting clean didn't seem such a bad idea, especially if he was going to be in close proximity to her freshly cleaned body, and cold water may in fact be a very good option, _especially if he was going to be in close proximity to her freshly cleaned body_. She returned in a couple of minutes, keeping her eyes close to the ground as she approached him. "T'anks sugartits," he said casually, reaching his hand up to scrub under his arm, smirking as she almost fled from what she knew was his total nakedness – although she stopped at the same tree he had marked, keeping an eye out with Dog at her feet.

She set the bedding up while he did a quick perimeter check, laying out the sleeping bag on the ground so it was a base and then layering on top the couple of blankets and quilt they had found in the cars. She draped his wet clothes bushes to try and dry a little, though she wasn't expecting much in the cold night air, and laid her underwear more discreetly in the back seat of the car. She shivered a little and laid herself down on the left side of the bed, curling on her side with her feet pointed to the fire. Dog trotted over and turned in a small circle twice before dropping in against the back of her knees.

Merle paused as he returned, eyeing off her form huddled in the blankets. He placed the rifle on his side of the 'bed', pulling the handguns out of his belt and the knife off it. He looked at his boots, but noticed that hers were carefully placed off to the side and sighed _her feet will be cold_ and toed his off. He sat down, slipping under the blankets – Dog gave a yelp, jumping up and over the top of Marion's legs.

"Merle," she said reprovingly, looking over her shoulder.

"I ain't sleeping with a mutt," he growled. Dog sniffed, turning around in a circle and settled down inside the curve of her hips. He felt the heat that she had already generated and arranged himself with his hand on the rifle. "I need to keep me hand on tha gun."

"That's fine," she murmured, lining herself up against him so that her buttocks were pressed against him and her feet were pressed against his. He grimaced at their temperature, but refrained from comment. "Goodnight Merle."

"'night woman."

Dog pricked up his ears, listening to the sounds of the night – the slow deep breathing of the woman at his side and the louder, faster breathing of the man who accompanied her. He would watch over their sleep, making sure that nothing came upon them. That was his job.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) Speed – best viewed without too much grounding in reality.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"They're beautiful," she breathed, eyeing off the stag and his herd.

True to his word, Merle had roused her at about dawn, leading her through the trees until he picked up where the trail had been the day before and then following it. She'd tried hard to mimic his almost soundless ghosting through the forest, but still incurred a couple of baleful glares from over his shoulder. Dog, for all his bouncing like a ping pong ball, made not a sound. They'd come across the herd within a small clearing in the trees and Merle had slowed their pace, testing the direction of wind and leading them around until they'd found a position behind a fallen tree where they could watch. The stag was a magnificent beast, his antlers with a spread larger than most dining room tables, his coat was shining in the sun and his body had filled out over in the spring and summer. There were several mature does grazing quietly about him, delicately graceful on their slender legs, some with fawns at their feet, while some juveniles were bouncing around in the dappled half light.

"Fuckin' oath," he grunted. "That stag will dress one hundred pounds of meat. It'll keep us goin' for a while."

"A hundred pounds?" she repeated. Her brow furrowed as she did the mental arithmetic. "That's as much as I weigh!"

He cast her a sideways glance "In ya dreams sugartits."

Her face turned to one of outrage and she slapped at his arm. "The point is," she said. "That's far too much meat for us – it will go off."

"I'll smoke it."

"How long will that take?" she asked.

He looked at her. "Ya got somewhere to be sweetcheeks?"

She shrugged _well no_. "Take a fawn."

"Wha'?" he looked at her again. "Ya want ta kill tha baby deer?"

She grimaced. "Noooo, but it makes sense. If you kill the stag then who's going to protect his herd through the winter? Plus he's gone from the gene pool and he can't make anymore fawns. Same with the does – you take them and they can't breed any more, you wipe out a line of potential deer. The fawn won't be in a position to breed for a couple of years," she looked at him as if in question but he kept his gaze steady. "It's more sustainable," she concluded.

"Ya got a weird way of lookin' at t'ings – ya know that?"

"It's just logic," she shrugged.

"Ya couldn't do it." he said suddenly and she looked at him. "Ya going to have ta take tha shot."

She swallowed. "I would feel pretty guilty," she admitted. "I reckon I could eat it though."

"Ya'd puke it up" he grunted. She shrugged _maybe_. "Take that one" he instructed and she looked down his stump to the animal he was pointing at. "It's a young male – he'll get kicked out of tha herd next spring. He's only got 'alf a chance of making it t'rough ta tha next winter anyways."

Marion nodded, lifting the crossbow and lying it across the log they were hiding behind. She sighted along its ridge, gently turning the dial until the picture of the young male came into focus. "Just behind the front leg," whispered Merle in her ear. "Hit it hard enough and tha bolt'll go straight through ta tha 'eart."

Marion took a deep breath, watching the young deer graze contentedly. He was peaceful, happy in life and secure within the circle of her family. One of the does took a step over towards him, pausing to touch noses with him before leading her young fawn off further to where some green grass was thick. _That's his mother _Marion's hand trembled somewhat. _I can't_ she realised suddenly.

Dog whined and then yipped, jumping up to rest his front legs on her arm. The sound carried and the deer spooked. "Fuck it!" swore Merle, grabbing at the crossbow with his hand before standing. The bolt flew from it, thunking into a tree as the herd scattered and then his grip on the crossbow faltered and it dropped to the ground. "Ya stupid fuckin' mutt," he roared and took a step towards the dog –but Marion leaned over, hiding him from sight and Merle halted. "Git ya ass back to tha car bitch."

Marion stayed still for a few moments after he walked off. That had been stupid – they were hungry, now they were going to get hungrier. _But she couldn't take that doe's young 'child' away from her. _She sighed, reaching down to pat Dog on the head. "Thanks Dog. But I think you're back in his bad books - you'd better stay away from him for a while."

The journey was silent, his a fuming rage that radiated through his ramrod back, stiff arms and the occasional glare that he shot at her, hers somewhat ashamed but contemplative as she looked outside to the country side that was flashing past them with the cold wind in her face and Dog on her lap snuggled in sleep. They had managed good time in the last couple of days, and Merle had been able to fill up the car and spare container with fuel, but that wouldn't get them too far and they were running low on food, nothing much had been left in the cars – sooner or later they were going to have to stop, sooner rather than later would be preferred. The car slowed for an intersection and she automatically tightened her hand on the sword, but there was no collection of cars and she relaxed – only to straighten again as the vehicle turned. She frowned, looking at the map briefly before glancing up at Merle. He kept silent, refusing to look at her and she bit her lip, before deciding that she would just wait.

The car slowed down and she opened her eyes from her slight doze. Dog sat up, shaking his head and having an idle scratch before she flicked his ear and he straightened, propping his front legs on the window edge. A building came into view and she straightened. Merle grunted in satisfaction and she turned to him. "Town on tha map," he explained grudgingly.

"Seems a generous description," she replied lightly, giving him a smile. He didn't exactly return it but his face relaxed slightly and she sighed in relief. _The storm seemed to have passed._

The 'town' indeed appeared to comprise three buildings – a garage with a couple of bowsers under a canopy and small shop, a hall which advertised its availability for hire and shack with a sheriff sign blowing in the breeze. Merle pulled the car to a stop and they sat for a full minute with it running, looking and waiting for any sign of the dead. There was none and Merle turned the car off – Dog's ears twitched back and forth.

"Let's go," said Merle after another minute of nothing happening. "Be on ya guard."

She nodded, turning over into the back seat and emptying her bag without ceremony, putting it over her shoulders followed by the crossbow. He nodded once in approval of her forethought and stalked over to the garage. She wiped her hands alternatively on her pants and skipped to catch up, setting herself just at his shoulder. He held up his hand, releasing one finger from the butt of the silenced gun in a universal symbol for quiet and she nodded at him. He reached forward at the same time she did, she glared at him for a moment, lifting her sword slightly while holding out her second empty hand. He gritted his teeth but nodded, stepping back and taking up a position with the gun out and she opened the door.

The smell hit them like a wet rag – Marion gagged and Merle grimaced in distaste. "Git ya shit toget'er bitch," he swore as Marion bent over double, struggling to keep from losing the small amount of breakfast that she had eaten next to the door. Marion nodded, heaving again but straightened and nodded with determination. She brought the sword up and followed him, keeping the door wedged open in case they need a quick retreat. Dog jumped up the small step and advanced ahead of her.

"Opted out," he said in disgust, looking at the bodies on the floor at the front of the counter, their skulls shattered and splashes of blood all over the floor. Four women and a man, and what looked to be a child – although it was pretty hard to tell - they had been partially consumed, their clothes ripped away to reveal the decaying flesh ringed by bite marks. He snorted and crossed to a shelf.

"So where's the gun?" she asked, her voice contrastingly full of sympathy.

He shrugged, holding a box under his arm while he ripped it open. "Taken prob'ly – by ot'er survivors." He put a foil packet to his teeth and ripped it. "Ya want a poptart?"

"A what?" she said blankly.

"A poptart," he repeated. "Ya 'ad kids – ya must know what poptarts are."

Marion stepped forward to look at what he held, eying it uncertainly. "Never heard of them."

"Ya fuckin' wit' me," he exclaimed and took a bite, holding it out to her.

She pursed her lips, leaning forward and, taking his hand in hers to hold it steady, took a delicate bite. She grimaced at the sugary taste. "We were more a healthy eating household," she said dryly.

Merle swallowed his poptart around the lump in his throat, and dropped the box back on the shelf _were better toasted anyway_. He looked around. "Come on, let's clear tha rest of it."

"No need," she said, covering her nose and mouth with a hand. Merle turned to her and she nodded at the dog. "Dog says it's clear."

Merle looked down at the animal, which was standing at her feet, alert but quiet. "Ya goin' to trust tha mutt?"

"He always growls when there's dead about," she assured him.

Merle's jaw clenched, looking at her and the dog, she looked back at him with certainty. He nodded "I'll go and look for gas then – ya find wha' ya can 'ere." She nodded. "Hey! Keep tha' blade ready, dog or no dog" he warned and she nodded, suppressing a smile. He nodded once and turned, letting the door close behind him.

Marion pulled a face as the smell intensified with the door closed and looking around found something to wedge it open. She took a deep breath of fresh air and then turned back inside. She looked around the shop – it had the counter where the cigarettes used to be, the racks where the last moment temptation of chips and chocolate would attract purchase, the myriad of lollypops, gossip magazines and bacteria attracting sausage rolls and hotdogs. She curled her lip at the remains of these and stepped carefully towards the small grocery section – one or two brands of everything needed by a traveller or for emergency supplies of whoever was actually considered to live in the 'town' – likely farmers who would only come in for community events and if they ran out of something. _Surely there must be a larger town within cooee where they get their main supplies_ she thought. Still, there was some potential here and she paused in the aisle where there were tinned products, placing the bag on the floor and loading it up with tins.

Dog's growl made her pause in her search for something else than tinned beans _as nutritious as there are_. She gripped her sword tighter, turning slowly. Dog was looking towards the back of the shop, his ears pricked and his hackles up.

"You're kidding right? _Now _you hear them?" she whispered softly. "You couldn't have said something when the big bad redneck was around to hide behind?"(1) Dog looked up at her briefly and wagged his tail briefly, turning back and repeating his growl. Marion sighed, briefly considering going and getting Merle, but Dog wasn't too agitated so that suggested that there wasn't many.

She nodded and Dog led the way, down the aisle towards a door in the rear wall. The first groan sounded almost like a sigh and she realised her scent must have travelled ahead of her. She gripped the sword more tightly and put her eye to the glass pane in the door. It was a small area, a hallway basically which led to three doors – two of which appeared to be toilets. There were four geeks, her lips twitched as she realised that she'd used Merle's term, all gathered around _well more like pushing against _one of the doors. They seemed unaware of her and she frowned as she heard them growl again, their hands clawing against the door. She looked at the door in front of her – it opened inward, the one they were against opened outward, she wondered if they'd been trapped there because they couldn't figure how to pull a door. She could leave them there _only good geek is a dead geek _she could almost hear Merle say and as much as she hated the thought – they were better off dead. Their souls could then be at rest. But four at once was a bit much.

She turned around, placing her sword up against a shelf and bringing her bow around. She loaded a bolt and pulled three extras out of the quiver, placing them in between her teeth. She looked around and saw a small stepladder, probably used by vertically challenged people like herself to restock the higher shelves. She slung the bow back over her shoulder and picked it up, checking that the geeks hadn't moved before gently pushing the door open and laying the stepladder sideways on the ground, so that its legs were holding the door open about half a metre.

"Dog," she murmured and the dog slipped forward through the gap into the other room. He yipped once, twice and stepped forward on the edge of their group. One of the geeks saw him and turned, pulling away from the door and groaning, reaching down at Dog with hands where the skin had been ripped from due to the incessant scraping on the door. Dog bounced out of the way, shuffling backwards – the geek took a step, and then another as Dog retreated, waiting until the hands were almost on him before leaping over the ladder and out of the door. The geek followed, catching a whiff of Marion's scent as it neared the door – his groan was much louder and he stepped forward. His foot hit the ladder and he looked down in confusion, hitting his toes against the ladder again before his next step managed to get over the obstacle. He lurched into the door frame and the door swung open a little more as his other shoulder hit it. It swung back against the ladder as he made it through the opening, his mouth opening in a snarl as he shambled forward towards the figure with the delectable scent he could see outlined by the window.

Marion waited until he was all the way through the door before she let the bolt fire and he dropped. She took a bolt out of her mouth and put it in position, keeping an eye on the door as she pulled back the string. She frowned _they're sure hot for something in there_ and nodded to Dog. He trotted through the door and repeated his performance, leading another geek to the door – he sniffed Marion's scent and a loud moan came from him. He stumbled over the ladder and Marion took a step in and fired the bolt through the back of his head. A hand reached out to her and she back peddled away from the third geek who'd followed his mate out, swinging the bow back over her shoulder and picking up the sword. She hefted it over her shoulder and swung with all her strength – the headless body dropped to the ground and the head bounced once, twice and then a third time until it hit a shelf.

"Last one," she said to Dog after a grimace and placed the sword down and readied the bow again. Dog trotted into the room and gave a yip to attract the geek's attention, reversing out of the room with the decaying hands reaching for him. It dropped with the last bolt in its forehead. Marion lowered the bow, looking down at Dog. "Not had for a bitch hey Dog?" she grinned.

She slung the bow back over her shoulder and picked the sword up, returning to her half filled bag. She reached up to the shelf, examining the label before dropping it into the bag and reaching for some more of the same. She heard a noise and paused, looking over her shoulder. All the geeks remained motionless and she shrugged, turning back to the shelf. "On top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese," she sang to herself, reaching one more tin down before dragging the bag along the floor to the shelf of packets of pasta and soup. "I lost my poor meatball when somebody sneezed." She didn't hear the door as it began to open.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1). Tribute to cover of "Walkers and Wayfaring Strangers" by Sweet Little Mary Sue because it cracks me up each time I see it. Just had to put the poptarts bit in as well.


	20. Chapter 20

You know that feeling when you are struggling to make the words flow to get to the end of the chapter that you already have in your head and then something just slots into place _perfectly? _It happened here and I was so proud of myself! But then just today I realised I had a clanger in regards to timing that I needed to fix! Oh well...

Chapter 20

Merle spat out a mouthful of fuel, spitting a second time to get the last dregs of taste out as the hose pumped into the container. He'd already topped up the truck and filled two of the containers he found in the rear of the store, and was working on the third. He looked up at the shop door – he could see where she'd propped it open – it was all quiet. _Bitch woulda screamed if there'd been a problem_ he thought, _unless she didn't get a chance_ was the next unbidden thought. The fluid in the container approached the top and he pulled his attention back to it, kinking the hose to first slow and then finally stop the flow.

His body clock had awakened him just before dawn, it had still been dark and for a few moments he had been slightly disorientated, unfamiliar with the feeling of a warm body next to him. They'd both moved during the night, he had rolled onto his back and flung his left arm out; she had rolled onto her belly and turned her head towards him. He could feel her outward breath on the side of his chest through the arm hole of his vest. With the exception of the last two nights, and they had each been vastly different, he couldn't remember the last time that he had actually just woken up with someone – unless he counted the times he'd passed out next to another user after a shared hit. He would have to go back to the days when he would let a young Daryl crawl into bed with him, holding his hand as he listened to the choked off sobs and sniffs of him missing his mother fade away into sleep. After a time they had both gotten too old for that, but Daryl would still sometimes creep into his room after Pa had been on a bender and wait it out with him either on the floor or in a chair. At least then there'd be two of them if he did come looking for them, to share the beating – and then to patch the worst of the wounds up, reset dislocated bones and on the occasion even set a broken one. Those nights had come in handy during the first stint of juvie when the king of the cell block had thought him a likely target – he rolled through the beating which was meant to soften him up and stood up, letting loose for the first time and dropping the king like a stone. It had cost him an extra term on his sentence, but no-one had ever bothered him again. Nor did Pa after he got home.

He hefted the container into the back of the truck, pulling the rope around them tight and finishing off with a truckies' hitch. He looked at the door again and considered blowing the horn. _She'd be pissed at that_ he thought and reached in for the shotgun before walking over to the door. "What's taking ya so long bitch?" he demanded as he walked in the door.

The shop was empty – of living anyway. He passed the dead bodies at the front of the shop without a thought, but pulled up suddenly at the sight of the new bodies – although new was subjective, they'd obviously been dead for a while, it was just that they hadn't been in the shop when he'd been last there. Three had bolts through their heads, one simply didn't have a head, _well not attached_ he thought as he caught sight of it on the floor. _Where the hell was she?_ He thought, looking around while trying to stay silent. He couldn't see her _fuck it_ he opened his mouth to yell.

"I'm out here Merle," came her voice and he closed his mouth, for a moment puzzled _because he didn't actually say anything_ and then Dog trotted out from behind the half open door in the rear wall. He yipped and turned back around, Merle following with a muttered curse. He paused for a moment as he saw the scratch marks on one of the doors, the grooves stained with blood, but the dog kept on moving to a third door in the end of the room. He pulled it towards him, Dog slipping past his legs to continue the way through what appeared to be a store room to another door in a brick wall. Dog bounced a little, looking up at him and he reached his stump forward, hitching it into the handle to pull the door out. Dog trotted through, yipping once as he stepped out into the sun. Merle blinked once as he followed, the sun bright after the dimness of the shop. "This is Merle," he heard Marion's voice say. He turned towards it and suddenly snapped up the shotgun.

"Woah!" she exclaimed, standing and stepping towards him, her hands up. "Merle, this is Simon – he's coming with us to Fort Benning."

Merle blinked, glancing over her shoulder to where the black man had almost tumbled off the milk crate he had been sitting on, looking with some alarm back towards him, Dog on his feet with his hackles up slightly. Merle looked back to Marion "Wha'?"

She smiled, taking a step with her hand out and gently pushed the barrel of the gun towards the ground. "He's been stuck here for a fortnight – the geeks had him closed in. He's got no-one else, I said we could take him with us to Fort Benning."

_Smoke may well come out of his ears_ Marion suddenly realised, watching his lips compress and his brows dip down. He lent in and hooked his stump around her arm, almost dragging her off her feet as he marched around the corner of the building, Marion giving a slight wave of reassurance to a perplexed and somewhat anxious Simon. Dog yipped but sat down next to Simon.

"Ya fuckin' wha'?" snarled Merle into her face. He flung up his hand towards Simon. "I ain't having no nigger travelling wit' me."

Marion blinked. "But I asked him."

"Well fuckin' unask 'im" Merle said firmly.

"I can't do that," she exclaimed.

"Well I will," he retorted and took a step.

"No," she snapped, stepping in front of him.

Merle glared at her, she looked back at him resolutely.

"Well bitch – have fun wit' 'im" snorted Merle, turning on his heel.

"Merle, please," she said softly and he stopped. He heard her take a few steps until she was just behind him. "I can't leave him all alone. I've been all alone and it ... is soul destroying," he heard her voice shudder slightly. "And I was in the _Palace _relatively safe: I had Dog for some companionship. Please don't ask me to do that to him – not after what he's been through." She reached a hand out hesitantly, only just touching him as she placed it on his upper arm.

He flinched and for a moment she thought he was gone and then his head rolled backwards as he looked at the sky; he turned and looked down at her. "Those people," she said. "They were his family – he doesn't know what happened to them, but he was chased into the ladies' toilets by those geeks. He couldn't get out – they were pressed so hard against the door. Lucky that there were some boxes of food stored in the toilet, he's been able to use the water in the cistern to drink. But can you imagine Merle? Being stuck in a room with four salivating geeks just a door away and not able to do anything about it?"

_The geeks frothed at the mouth, pushing harder and harder at the door which banged ominously under their pressure. They were coming. It was only a matter of time. He looked at the hacksaw, at the cuffs which it hadn't been able to make a dent in. The roar of the geeks faded into the background behind his breathing and pumping of his blood. He grabbed his belt in his teeth and yanked it tight. He placed the blade on the skin and using all the force he could muster, he dragged the blade back._

Merle shuddered, the pain in his right hand almost excruciating.

"Merle?" she said in concern as the colour drained from his face, reaching out her hand again and taking what she could of his left hand in hers around the gun. "Please?"

He nodded and a grin spread across her face. She jumped a little, leaning in and kissing him quickly on his cheek. "Thankyou!" She took a couple of steps away and stopped, his hand still in hers at the full extent of his arm, turning back to him.

_Fuck it_ he thought and followed her, shaking his hand slightly so that she released him. She did so without any hesitation, but slowed half a step so that she was at his shoulder as they returned back to Simon.

He was a slender man, his skin more of a chocolate brown than an ebony colour, his eyes defined by dark brows the same colour as his shoulder length hair which curled slightly in tight dreadlocks. He wore what used to be smart tailored slacks and a business shirt which wouldn't have looked out of place with a tie and he had a sort of natural grace.

Marion smiled as she returned to him. "Simon, this is Merle. Merle, this is Simon." She tried again.

Simon extended his right hand, Merle held his own up ironically and Simon faltered. Marion gave Merle a glare which he returned with interest and she pursed her lips.

"Pleased to meet you Merle," Simon's accent was very correct and closer to Marion's pronunciation than that any true southerner. It annoyed Merle on principle. "Your wife was so very..."

"Wha' tha fuck?"

"Pardon?"

They said together and Simon paused, looking in confusion between the two.

Marion waved her hand at him, even as she tried to contain herself from laughing. Merle was on edge enough as it was. "Merle is not my husband" she explained after a short struggle ignoring the hissed _God forbid_. "We ... er... _encountered_ each other a few days ago and he was kind enough to offer to take me to Fort Benning on his way."

_That's what he did was it?_ Merle glared down at her, his eyes narrowing further as she flicked an impish glance up at him.

"Oh, well" Simon seemed well and truly discomforted. "Marion was so very kind to help me. Others haven't," he finished on a downward note.

"That's Marion," said Merle sourly. "Ya got tha bag full of food sugartits?"

_That's Merle_ thought Marion with another brief struggle with her levity. "Full of tins and pasta and stuff. It's still in the shop – I couldn't carry it."

Merle grunted, turning back into the building. Dog yipped, bouncing up on his legs first at Simon, over to Marion and back again as they turned to walk around the outside of the building back to the car.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Simon travelled in the front seat. "I ain't having 'im behind me," had said Merle. "Ain't got not'ing wit' 'im bein' a nigga'" he'd added as her mouth had opened. "He could be fuckin' anyone woman. Ya sit in tha back wit' the gun right on 'is spine." Of course her explanation had been a little different. "My legs are short Simon, there's so much stuff in the back, you'd be better with the front seat."

Merle drove in almost sullen silence, listening to Marion and Simon talking as if they were _fuckin' best friends_. Simon had apparently been an accountant, he'd grown up in the area before moving north and had travelled back home to help out an old family friend who was being audited by the IRS. _Fuckin' government _thought Merle sourly. None of his family had been sick, they'd been blissfully unaware of the disease until they'd travelled to the friend's farm to celebrate the win over the IRS and had found the friend, who had had flu for the last few days, had half eaten the IRS Inspector. They'd stayed at their house as long as they could, but they'd gradually run out of food and they'd had to run – the garage had been a place to get some supplies before heading towards Atlanta where they'd heard the radio stations telling them to go before they stopped broadcasting. He'd finished refuelling the car when he'd heard the gun shots, he'd run in to find them dead on the floor and then had heard his car being stolen. The group of geeks had come soon after and he'd been forced to run into the toilet where he'd been trapped. He'd heard others in the storeroom later in the week, and had yelled, but no-one had come.

Marion had explained that she'd been on holiday with her family, had travelled pretty much across the country from Los Angeles when her eldest had come down with what they had thought was the flu. That all of her family had come down with the sickness, then most of the town had been evacuated and she'd been left by herself just with Dog. Until Merle had come.

"Dog?" queried Simon with a slight smile, half turned in his seat so that the wind blew his dreadlocks against the chair and he could see Marion.

"Ya reckon she'd give the fuckin' dog a name after all this time wouldn't ya?" drawled Merle, entering the conversation for the first time.

"That _is_ his name," said Marion surprisingly. "well, he _did _have another – it was embroidered on his pink diamante studded collar – but he becomes dreadfully embarrassed if you call him by it."

"Wha' is it?" Merle asked in a casual tone.

Marion's mouth opened, then shut again as she gave him a suspicious glare. He looked up and caught her gaze in the mirror, smirking. She poked her tongue out at him.

"I thought of calling him Claytons," she got two blank stares. "You know the drink you can have when you're not having a drink – well he's a dog when you don't really have a dog." The stares didn't get any less blank. _Maybe it was an Aussie thing, although Merle probably wouldn't recognise a non alcoholic drink if it bit him on the arse._ "But it didn't seem to fit. So I went with Dog. You know from Footrot Flats?" Her voice lifted into incredulousness as both the face looking directly at her and the one in the mirror stayed blank. "The cartoon – about a sheep dog? He was raised in a cat's home by Aunty ... um, can't remember her name, and he had such an embarrassing name that he wouldn't let her say it? So Wal, New Zealand sheep farmer, called him Dog. He was always trying to get it on with Bess, a sheep dog from next door, while stopping Wal getting it on with Cheeky." She took a breath. "They even made a movie about it?"

Merle was smirking now, even Simon seemed to be holding back a grin.

"Oh never mind," Marion sighed, sitting back and stroking Dog as he settled in her lap "Must be another one of those Australian/New Zealand things I suppose." She muttered to him. "Ba da da, boom boom, da da da, boom boom, ba da da, boom boom, da da da da dow." (1)

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Simon directed them further to the west to find the larger town that supplied the greater need of supplies, it had only been a short discussion to decide it was worth while going out of their way to get the supplies. After their late start and the stop at the garage, plus the time it had taken Marion to put the back seat into some type of order that she could manage to find a seat and be able to use her seatbelt, the town was too far away for them to reach so they pulled up in a RV station. Simon had offered to take them to a local family's house, but Merle had not been keen (too much potential for geeks) and neither had Marion (too much potential for more people that Simon knew to have become geeks) so he had directed them to a small RV station where the big vehicles could empty their waste and refill their water. They'd coasted in quietly, but there were no RVs in sight and after a couple of minutes of waiting, nothing had come out and they'd unloaded.

Marion bent to pick up another stick, straightened and turned, jumping slightly as she found Merle's chest right in front of her. "Crap Merle," she swore, looking up at him with a glint in her eye.

"Ya be right wit' 'im?" he demanded in a low voice, stepping closer to her so that he was almost touching her.

Marion blinked, following his gaze to where Simon was collecting firewood about ten metres away. "Of course I will."

"Don't be fuckin' stupid sugartits," he snarled. "Ya have no idea what this nigga 'as been up to, ya..."

"Enough!" she hissed at him and he stopped. "My name is _Marion_, not honeypouch, sugar tits or bitch _alright_? Hell I'll put up with 'woman' but none of this bloody sexist shit. And he is not a nigga, he is a negro, an African American or better yet – _Simon." _ She glared at him, standing on her tiptoes to bring herself a little closer to level with him. "Do you understand?"

Merle looked down at her, admiring how her eyes sparkled with ferocity and her chest heaved. He snorted "What's wrong with ya sweetcheeks? Ya got ya rags comin' on or somet'in'?"

"Arsehole," she swore quietly as he stalked away, then paused with an arrested look and started to do some metal arithmetic.

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you earlier today," said a cultured voice behind her and she started, standing up and looking up at Simon. His arms were loaded with timber and she turned with him to walk back to their camp with him. "You know, assuming that you and ... Merle were married.

She smiled, chuckling quietly and absently turning her wedding rings. "No matter – although I think you took a few years off Merle's life."

Simon was silent. "Are you here willingly?" he suddenly burst out.

Marion blinked, stopping to look at him. "Pardon?"

"Is he – has he forced you to stay with him?"

Marion was silent, staring at him for a moment before turning to walk back again. "Simon," she started, holding off the grin because he actually seemed serious. "How can I be forced to stay? He's gone you know – won't be back for a couple of hours if form stays true."

Simon shrugged, "There are other ways of forcing people to stay."

"You're thinking Stockholm syndrome?" she gurgled, shaking her head. "I'm here by choice Simon – I chose to travel with Merle."

"Why?" he demanded, not angrily, almost as a plea. "He's a sexist, racist, hillybilly redneck. Have you seen how he looks at you? What can you possibly have in common with him?"

"Not much," she admitted to the second question, dropping to the ground and setting up the fire, ignoring the first question with an inner tremor. _Of course she was aware how Merle looked at her – he'd never hidden his desire. But he'd never acted on it – except when he was drunk that first night_. Somehow she still felt safe with him. "It was pure chance that brought us together – but he's done alright by me. And I am safer with him." Simon's mouth opened "Can you please get me the matches out of the door of the car?" she asked. He nodded and when he returned she started the conversation on something else.

Cooked squirrel was a bit out of Simon's comfort zone, but a fortnight of being stuck with tinned asparagus, kidney beans, corn and spam, and Marion's encouragement was enough for him to overcome any hesitation. The meal was mostly taken in silence, all three of them perched almost in a triangle around the fire – Dog moving between Simon and Marion to request tidbits. Merle growled as Marion broke off a chunk of her squirrel and she looked up, pausing for a moment before breaking it up again and eating one before giving the rest to Dog.

Marion had set the beds up underneath a small picnic shelter with a roof and one full wall, either side of a table. Merle walked towards it hesitantly, unsure of the situation. There were two beds only – one had three blankets, one only had one. He saw Marion speak briefly with Simon and the man headed towards the bed with the most blankets while she turned back to the car. He sighed, heading towards the leaner bed which he gathered was his because she was such a cold frog, unloading the handguns and knives before laying down on his right hand side so he could see the man, placing the gun within easy reach. He watched as Dog curled up next to the man's chest, Simon reaching out and giving the little dog a hesitant pat and receiving a lick in response. _Fuck_ Merle suppressed a snort and closed his eyes.

He heard the car door close and then footsteps coming towards them, then hesitate before there were some sounds associated with her unloading her weapons, then his eyes flew open as she sat down next to his back, undoing her boots before sliding underneath the blanket and next to him. She wriggled into place, her feet finding his still with boots on and so moving up to press against his ankles, her buttocks pressed up against him.

"Night Merle," she murmured.

"Night sugar..." he swallowed the rest of the word, almost hearing her smile. He closed his eyes again and for a few minutes there was no sound except for the breathing of the four of them and some night birds. But the night was clear and cold and soon he felt her shiver. He opened his eyes – Simon looked to be asleep, Dog lay down within the crook of his arm but his head was up and his eyes were pricked. She shivered again and he rolled his eyes, grabbing the gun and putting it above his head, rolling over and pulling her closer against him with his stump. "Ya shouldn't have given ya blankets away woman," he rebuked into her ear.

"He needed them," she replied with a sigh as she pushed herself closer to his warmth. "I have you."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) Type in Slice of Heaven to Youtube – pick the one that looks like a cartoon. Note - Dog doesn't _look_ like this. If you get through this, you should see another song from the same movie – just for the fun of it. And I did have a friend who had an Australian Silky Terrier named Clayton for the exact reason I have used. He used to get terribly embarrassed for the first couple of weeks after being clipped!


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

"It's time to get up gorgeous" he whispered in her ear.

Marion smiled sleepily. "Just a few more minutes?" she pleaded. She was warm and comfortable, his arm was wrapped around her chest and she could feel his length pressed up tight to her.

"You have to get up now babe," he insisted, his breath warm on her ear.

"Are you sure I can't convince you otherwise?" she suggested warmly, rolling her arm over to slip a hand between them until she could cup the hardening bulge she had felt in her rear end. She was rewarded by a hiss in her ear, a bodily flinch and an immediate reaction in her hand, the pressure increasing and filling her hand. She smiled, moving her fingers.

"Wake up Marion," he repeated a little more insistently.

She sighed and removed her hand. _Why was he in so much of a rush – what were they doing today?_ "Ok," she groaned, stretching out so that her breasts were pushed into his hand and her buttocks rubbed against the middle of his groin.

"Marion!"

She snapped awake suddenly, her train of thought a series of realisations that got more and more horrified. Not at home – in Georgia. Not in bed – outside. Not Ben – Merle. Still a hard presence in the middle of her buttocks and an arm firmly pressed against her breasts. She gasped and moved.

"Ssh," he said urgently in her ear, half propped up on his elbow. He'd woken as soon as she'd moved, immediately alert for a threat, but had relaxed as she had murmured something unintelligible, realising that she was still asleep. He'd lifted himself up to watch her face in the pre-dawn, then her hand had moved and he had almost lost it, her hand was _right fuckin' there_, holding him, _goddam stroking him_. He'd sucked in his breath, half closing his eyes as his blood roared in his ears, his body reacting as only one that had been starved could. Her hand had moved away and he found he could breathe again, could hear again and that's when he heard it. He stiffened, looking around, but then she'd moved – basically wiping her unfettered breasts up against his arm and wriggling her ass against his dick and he'd lost his sense of hearing again as blood roared. He knew the instant that she woke because everything that had been warm compliance abruptly became stiff and withdrawn

"Merle," she whispered as she rolled over, the evidence of his masculinity now pressed to her hip, "I'm not comfortable with..." she tried to edge away a little.

"Ssh," he hissed at her again, pushing down with his arm to hold her still but looking elsewhere.

Dog growled again, walking forward with small steps looking out into the darkness which was only just starting to lighten with the approaching dawn.

Marion suddenly forgot his arm in the middle of her breasts, the pressure of his body pressed against her and tipped her head so she could see Dog. Even with her upside down view she could see the tenseness in him, the way he was focused on something only he could see, hear, smell. "Geeks," she said quietly. "A small group getting close– or a larger one further away."

Merle shook his head. "They're almost here," he stood up and Marion immediately averted her eyes from his profile. Even in the dim light she could see the proof of his sheer _maleness_. "Git up," she found his stump in front of her and putting a hand on his forearm was launched to her feet, the blanket falling in a heap. "Git 'im up," he nodded towards Simon.

"Where are you going?" she demanded in a whisper, putting a hand on his forearm.

"Goin' to git 'em before t'ey git 'ere," he replied with a scowl. _Where the fuck did she think he was going?_

"Wait for me," she urged. "I'll bring the crossbow."

"Too dark for t'at," he shook his head. "It'll be up close 'n' personal."

"So I'll bring the sword," she insisted. "Don't go out there by yourself."

"I'm better t'at way," he replied and her hand dropped from his arm. "Git to tha car and wait for me t'ere."

Marion stared at him while he quickly reloaded the knives that he'd taken off before lying down for sleep. He was almost a ghost in the forest and she knew she was not – but the geeks didn't just operate on sound, they used smell as well. _Same as deer_ said an internal voice. _Let him go – he can handle himself_. She nodded and reached down to pull the silenced gun from under her 'pillow' and handed it to him, holding onto the sword and crossbow. "Be careful."

Merle snorted, but took the offered weapon, and stepped out of the shelter, disappearing into the darkness within a couple of steps.

Dog sniffed, turning back and leading Marion to where Simon still slept. She reached over and shook his shoulder "Simon," she whispered urgently. "Simon!"

The man came awake in a rush, yelling out and flailing around at the same time. Marion felt something connect with her face and yelped as she was hurled backwards into the wall. There was a large clang as the metal reverberated under her body weight – Dog barked and Simon was suddenly next to her. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Ssh!" she hissed urgently. "I'm alright," she continued more quietly, holding the side of her face, "but we have geeks coming – probably more quickly now," she added grimly.

"Geeks?" he said in scared whisper.

Marion gave him an understanding smile _poor bloke just got away from them_, then straightened, grimacing as the headache which had faded almost to nothing the previous day suddenly exploded again. Her gaze was a little peppered with stars and she blinked a couple of times to clear them, her cheek bone throbbing. "We have to get over to the car," she said as her vision cleared and bent to pick up Simon's blankets. She draped them in an untidy heap over her shoulder. "Merle's gone to deal with them – but let's get the car ready in case." He nodded, almost stepping on her as she led the way to the car, abandoning the one blanket that she and Merle had used because she didn't have enough hands.

Dog led the way, staying within a metre of Marion, his white coat picking up every essence of light in the air and almost glowing. Marion held her sword with both hands, one shoulder full of blankets and the other full of crossbow. The car came into view and Simon almost pushed her out of the way to get to it. He opened the passenger door and crawled in, slamming the door.

Dog growled, "Simon!" she hissed and there was a moan from the dark. She took two hurried steps towards the vehicle, stopping to throw the blankets into the back of the truck, before turning back to the noise. Dog barked then and the figure shambled into her vision out of the dark. It was heavily decayed, its lips gone and almost its entire jaw visible through the flesh. It moaned, its jaw seeming to partially dislocate with the movement and its pace increased. "Ooh ugly," (1) she commented and lifted the sword, taking two steps and slicing down. The sword hit the top of its skull and sank through the bone into the brain inside – the forward progress stopped and it dropped, dragging her arms with it as the sword held on. "Crap," she hissed, stepping forward to change her angle and reefing at the blade. It came out with a rush and she staggered a step.

Dog barked again and she whirled, ducking the hands as they groped for her. This time she went for the neck and the blade sliced clean through, with a thump the headless body fell to the ground. She heard the shuffling footsteps even as Dog growled again and backed up as two of them came at her from slightly different angles. She danced away slightly to the side, putting some distance between her and one of them so that she could deal with them separately. _Where the hell was Merle_ she wondered as she hacked at one, dropping an arm and then the figure to his knees before she managed to skewer him through the eye. The sword came out with a gush of blood and she barely had the strength to lift the sword again as the other geek attacked her. She braced the sword under her reaching hands and several fingers fell to the ground. It didn't slow her down though and Marion pushed, the sword going past the hands into the neck so that the figure staggered back, then she took a step in and like an axe brought the blade down.

A scream and a flurry of barking shattered what was left of the silence and she whirled to the car, cursing as she saw the back half of a geek protruding from the window opening, Dog bouncing up and trying to get ahold of an ankle. She could see the car rocking as Simon kicked at the beast, throwing himself over the front seat to the back of the car. She reached out and took a handful of the suit jacket the geek was wearing, tugging – she didn't shift him, he was so intent on the meal he could see and smell and almost touch in front of him. She swore, putting her sword on the ground against the car and filling her second hand full of clothes – pulling back with all her might. This time he moved a little and she put one foot up against the car to give her more leverage as she pulled. He came out then and she suddenly realised the hole in her strategy, forced to back up as he landed on his feet and turned towards her. She swung the bow around, stepping back as she fumbled to nock an arrow. She saw the glint of metal and turned suddenly, the explosion of a bullet loud in the still dawn air.

Merle swore, ducking his head down under a branch – only partially successfully and he swore again as he felt his skin on his cheek ripping. He'd only made it about 30metres into the dark before all hell had broken loose at the camp – he'd turned to go back immediately _musta been geeks closer than he thought_ but he'd found himself surrounded by them. He'd plunged his knife into two before they even realised he was amongst them but then they'd all turned on him and he had backpeddled _at least he could keep these away from the camp_ he thought, slashing at another that got too close. It didn't die, but it staggered enough for him to move back to a safe range again. He took a step to the right and lunged in, the knife sliding up into the jaw and brain before coming back out smoothly and he stepped back again. He was loathe to use his throwing knives as he didn't think that he would get much of a chance to get them back, but he threw two as a crowd got that bit too close. He brought out the gun and dropped another three and yet there was still more. He cursed and turned to his left, running as best he could in the dark forest. They followed, but at a staggering disorientated run and within a minute he had some breathing room. He turned back to the camp, his sense of direction unerring despite the availability of landmarks. He heard the scream _wha' tha hell – does she want to ring tha dinner bell?_ and put on a burst, coming in sight of the clearing surrounding the picnic area just as she dislodged the geek from the car. He saw her backpeddle, fumbling with her crossbow and lifted his gun. There was a flash of light and an explosion – he saw her recoil and then disappear under the body.

"Marion!" he yelled, barrelling over the intervening distance to reach for the geek – half of his skull missing and even more from his face – before bending over her. He tucked the gun in his waistband and felt over her, touching her face first then over her body, feeling blood all over his hands. "Marion – are ya bit? Woman – fuck it are ya bit?" She started to heave, bucking underneath his hands and he moved back a little as she got to her hands and knees and spewed out all of her undigested dinner.

"I'm ok Merle," she managed finally, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve and grimacing as she realised exactly what she was wiping onto herself. She looked up at him. "I just got splattered, that's all. Are you alright?"

_Crazy bitch_. "Fine – but we goin' ta git company soon."

"Well you'll just have to send them on their way," she instructed, as she got to her feet with his stump under her elbow. "I've had about enough for tonight."

He smirked, but his expression changed quickly as he heard the groans approaching from where he'd come from. "Git in tha car," he ordered, pushing her towards the vehicle as he backed after her. He heard the door open and reached out his hand to close it but turned abruptly as he heard the engine start. _Fuck_ he thought, but followed her into the passenger seat, closing the door just as she snapped the headlights on – highlighting about ten geeks – and spun the wheels to get them out of there.

"Can ya drive?" demanded Merle.

"As long as no-one's coming on the wrong side of the road," she replied grimly, twisting the wheel and he looked up – they were on the left hand side of the road. "And I don't need to get out of first gear," she added, glancing over at him. "The only stick gear I've driven was the old Kingswood paddock basher I learnt to drive in."

"Git us out of 'ere and we'll swap," he nodded. He swivelled in his seat so that he could face the back seat, Simon sat almost folded in on himself, Dog on his lap. "You – give me the guns," he directed.

Simon looked up shakily. "What?"

"The guns – ya sitting on most of them. Pass them over here, now," he added and lifted his gun at Simon. Dog growled and Marion turned.

"Merle," she said reprovingly.

"Wha?" he demanded. "Dumb prick almost shot you."

"Merle," she said quietly, reaching over one hand and laying it on his knee. "Remember what he's been through."

Merle snorted, turning back to Simon. The man took a look at his face and pulled the gun bag up, passing it over to Merle who put it in the footwell in front of him. "And tha one ya fired," he directed. Simon passed it over and Merle clicked out the magazine, nodding as he saw only one bullet was missing.

They travelled some time in silence.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) Since you liked my previous film reference I'll tell you that I was thinking Oliver Platt's line in the tunnel during The Three Musketeers with a Charlie Sheen before he went ...er.. postal, Chris O'Donnel, and a Mr. Gravel Voice himself, Kiefer Sutherland.

I would also just like to clarify that a 'stick shift' to me is the one with the gears in a lever on the wheel.

(1) Since you liked my previous film reference I'll tell you that I was thinking Oliver Platt's line in the tunnel during The Three Musketeers with a Charlie Sheen before he went ...er.. postal, Chris O'Donnel, and a Mr. Gravel Voice himself, Kiefer Sutherland.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"About fuckin' time," grumbled Merle as the car pulled to a halt at the beginning of a bridge. She managed to change gears without any real trouble and the sun was now officially up, the light increasing each passing minute as it hoisted further into the sky. He'd suggested, then asked, then told her to pull over so that he could take over the driving, but she'd merely shaken her head and he'd got sick of asking. Then the noise of the car stopped and there was absolute silence, for a moment he worried that something had been damaged in the frenzied flight out of the forest but as he turned to her he saw that she'd turned the ignition off. "Wha' tha fuck?"

"We're stopping for a while,"' she said to him. "Simon, would you please pass me my bag? The purple one, yes that's it." She reached for it and found her arm grasped.

"We ain't stoppin' 'ere," he said.

"Yes we are," she replied evenly, pulling her arm out of his grasp. "We haven't seen a geek for a good 45minutes," s_o the bitch was paying attention_, "we have good vision everywhere and a good road to escape on if need be. I just need ten minutes out of the car" she added as she started to sort through her bag. She frowned.

"Wha' for?" he asked suspiciously.

"Take one guess genius," she snarled, looking up at him. She _was_ somewhat of a sight. The right side of her face was splotched with blood, smeared slightly, there were chucks of flesh and bone in her hair. Her long sleeve shirt had changed from a light blue to a rusty red where the blood had landed. She turned towards Simon. "Simon – there's a bra somewhere over there, would you please find it and pass it to me?" She paused and her tone took on an exasperated note. "Crikey Simon – you had three sisters, surely this can't be the first time you've had to handle one?" She reached over to accept the offered item. "Thankyou."

Merle's eyes had dropped to her breasts the instant she had mentioned the word bra. _Fuck but she had a good rack_ and it was entirely unfettered, he suddenly recalled the feeling of them being rubbed against his arm – her arm moving made them sway a little and his body awakened in a hurry. He looked up abruptly and met her narrowed eyes _damn but she knew exactly what he'd been doing_.

"I'm going to the creek to wash this poor bastard's blood off, change this shirt and to put a fucking bra on. All of which," she raised her voice as his mouth opened, "I am more than capable of doing myself." She lanced him with a glare for a few moments, then reached for the door and stepped out. There was a rustle from the back seat and Dog leapt over the seat and out of the door, frisking around at her feet as she walked to the edge of the road where the ground dived down to the creek on the other side of the bridge.

"Hey woman," she turned with a resigned look on her face but her words died on her lips as she saw him holding out the crossbow. "Take t'is wit' ya. Holla if ya need us." She nodded, taking the bow. He didn't release it and she looked up – his eyes were narrowed as he looked at her. "Are ya alright?"

"Not really," she said with a twisted smile. "But who is nowadays?"

He held her gaze for another moment before releasing the weapon and watching her down the bank until she was out of sight.

"Are you sure it's safe for her to go down there by herself?" asked Simon hesitantly from the edge of the tray.

"Ya want to argue wit' her?" sneered Merle over his shoulder, smirking at he saw the grimace cross the man's face. "We'll give her a bit." He sighed, "better see what we've lost."

The tally was small – the camp oven, which had been cooling with a new load of water, the blankets that he'd shared with Marion and his two throwing knives. Everything else had been packed in the car – well Marion had packed it after they'd had dinner, washing their plastic plates and cutlery and returning these to the picnic basket. The matches had gone back immediately that she'd started the fire. All the weapons had made it into the car, although some had fallen out of the bag and Merle had to crawl into the footwell to retrieve all the bullets. There was a blood smear across the front seat and he sacrificed one of the towels to clean it off as best he could. The blankets she'd dumped in the back of the tray had gotten wet from the dew that had been over the metal and Simon occupied himself in spreading these along the edge of the tray so that the sun and the slight breeze would dry it.

"You don't think much of me do you?"

Merle turned at the soft question, startled out of his contemplation of how he could attach the 50 cal to the roof without scratching the duco too much, all the guns fully loaded in front of him in the tray. "Wha'?"

Simon faced him, his voice even. "Because I'm black – you don't think much of me."

The quiet dignity unsettled Merle more than angry yells would have. He turned away, shrugging. "I was always taught that nig... black men didn't have much ta offer."

Simon snorted derisively. "I must be your fucking dream then." He saw Merle turn towards him with a frown. "Stuck in the toilets by four geeks for a fortnight, ran like a scared girl when we were attacked, almost shot Marion."

Merle's lips curled a little and Simon threw up his hands, but he was caught by surprise by Merle's words. "Ain't no shame in being scared of tha geeks Simon," he said harshly. "T'ey're wha' nightmares are made of – t'ey don't feel pain, t'ey don't feel fear, all t'ey got in 'em is hunger and t'eys never filled up – t'ey always wanting more." He paused. "If ya'd shot Marion though I would have killed ya." _Wha' tha fuck?_

"You should have seen her," almost whispered Simon, seeing nothing incongruous about Merle's final statement. "She was taking out geeks left, right and centre, swinging the sword. And you – how many did you take out?" Merle shrugged. "And I almost killed Marion with my one shot. How fucking useless am I?"

"That's horseshit," said Merle and Simon looked up in surprise. "Ya finished school? Ya went to college? Ya got a job as an accountant? And ya must have been pretty good if ya could beat tha IRS?" Simon nodded again, a slight smile playing about his mouth as he thought of his former life. "I never finished school – I was pretty much never t'ere from 'bout 12 anyway and at 14 I figured no-one'd care if I never went. No-one did. I can't write real well, I can only read titty magazines and am lucky if I can add up the notes in me wallet. Hell listen ta me – I can 'ardly speak properly. But tha world's changed and I don't need ta do any of t'at. I can track, I can hunt, t'ere ain't a weapon I don't know 'ow to load and shoot, I can find me way in the forest and I can hotwire cars and keep 'em running."

Simon laughed once, harshly. "Everything I can't do."

"So ya learn," said Merle. "Ya ain't stupid, ya watch and ya listen and ya figure out wha' ya can do and wha' ya can't. Ya do what ya can and ya avoid 'aving ta do wha' ya can't. Ya reckon Marion had a fuckin' clue how to shoot? Well she didn't – she 'olds the gun like it was a snake tha' might bite her, she's too stiff and she's lucky if she can 'it the side of tha barn from more than t'ree yards away. But she's taught 'erself enough to git by." He caught and held Simon's eyes. "Ya want ta live? Then ya adapt."

_Well listen to ya brother – nigga counseller!_

Simon nodded considering Merle's words. "Did you lose anyone?" he asked after a pause.

Merle turned away. "Don't know," he replied shortly. "He could be dead, he could be alive."

"I lost everyone," said Simon softly. "My parents, my sisters, my nephew – they're all gone."

"Well ya 'ere," retorted Merle. "Focus on t'at."

Simon nodded. He moved to open the car door, digging in the mess of the back seat to find the water flagon and a couple of muesli bars, holding one out to Merle.

"Fuckin' rabbit food," groused Merle, but took it anyway, ripping the wrapper open and biting off a chunk. Simon extended the water flagon and he took it with a nod, tipping it down his throat. _Pa'd be rollin' in his fuckin' grave!_ "Well fuckin' let 'im," he spat under his breath, shaking his head slightly as Simon cocked a brow at him, passing the flagon back over. He finished chewing the bar _not that bad actually, _watching but not really paying attention as Simon sorted through the equipment and materials in the back seat of the car, storing it more appropriately and to make more room.

There was a slight noise behind him and he turned, swallowing. "Fuck"

Dog bounced up at him, turning and dashing back towards the creek before turning back to him and yipping.

He was already moving as Simon yelled, he turned to catch the shotgun tossed to him – Simon had to sprint to catch up to him and Merle rounded the guardrail and started down the bank. They had to slow down then, the bank was steep with lots of rocks and loose soil in between. Simon slipped and hit the ground, Merle slowed, turning but at Simon's exclamation turned back to the front.

"Marion!" he yelled.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Marion made the way down to the creek steadily, placing her hand on the rocks next to the goat track she was following to steady herself. Her head had been getting worse for the last hour or so, but she hadn't wanted to let Merle drive because she hadn't been sure that she could have made him stop. The smell of the blood and flesh _well brain probably_ was putrid and she was struggling with the urge to throw up. She could feel the stiffening of the blood on her face, neck and arms while still feeling the coldness of the wet blood on her shirt. She'd needed desperately to have a wash, to throw the shirt as far away as she could _leaving her with only two and a singlet top_. Plus she really did want to put a bra on, she felt self conscious with the two men in the car and the cold breeze rushing in through the busted window, and she'd decided that sword fighting was not a sport best undertaken without some support.

She made it to the creek bed where there was a small pool of water, and without any hesitation she took off her shirt and tossed it behind her. She dug into her bag to find the sponge and spent some time scrubbing at the red stains on her skin. She literally immersed her head into the water, gasping at the temperature _must be snow somewhere_, holding it there as she scrubbed and scrubbed until she stopped finding squishy bits or sharp pieces. She flipped her head back and using her hands, dispersed as much of the water from her hair as she could. A shiver ran through her and she glanced around in sudden trepidation, holding her arms protectively over her chest, but there was no sign of him. _Of either of them,_ her mind corrected her. Dog was perched up on a rock above her and he waved his tail at her. She smiled even as she stood, reaching to her bag to extract a towel to give herself a once over, then wrapped the bra around her, latching it before flipping it up and inserting her arms, sighing with relief. She pulled on some undies and then her pants. She found a skivvy and pushed her arms through, grabbing the neck hole and pulling it over her head. She folded the neck down and shook her head to get her wet hair away from it.

She staggered and reached out to grasp a rock. Dog whined and she glanced up at him. Her vision blurred, thousands of particles rushing from the front to the back of her eyelids. "Oh crap," she murmured and sat rather heavily, placing her head in between her knees. She hissed as the tender spot on her cheek was pressed and lifted her head. The world swum and more particles rushed past her vision. She groaned and lay down carefully. "I just need a minute," she said to Dog, now at her side and licking her face. She waited for what seemed like a couple of minutes and then opened her eyes carefully. A virtual storm of particles met her and she groaned again. "Dog," she called and he stood up from under her hand. "You're going to have to get him." She heard the scrabble of paws and claws over the rocks. "Crap."

It seemed only a few seconds later that she heard a much larger scrabble. _If this is a geek then I'm dead_ she thought, but forced her eyes open, tapping her hand around to try and find the crossbow. "Marion?" his holler made her sigh.

"Here," she called out weakly, then tried again. "Here!"

The scrabbling got louder and louder, then she saw his shadow looming over her from a distance. "Wha' tha fuck?" he demanded. She heard him say other things, and an answering voice, but she was having trouble focusing. Then his presence loomed immediately over her and his hand was touching her. "Ya stupid bitch," he chewed her out. _There he goes again – yelling and swearing at me. _"Wha' that fuck did ya try and get down 'ere for? Are ya hurt?"

"I didn't fall," she said with a slight hint of spirit and tried to catch his hand. She was no-where near co-ordinated enough but he saw her efforts and removed his hand from her ribs. "I had to sit down suddenly – my head hurts."

"Ya said it was better," he said as if through a tunnel, bending down to her.

"Oh no," exclaimed Simon from above them, covering Marion's weaker "It was." Merle looked up at him and he continued. "Last night – when she woke me, I hit her. I was dreaming." He added in hurried explanation as Merle turned up to him.

"It was fuckin' goin' around," said Merle grimly, but to himself. He bent over her, looking at her left eye. It was swollen, there was a suggestion of a red mark where he knew it had gone past the yellow stage. "Marion, Marion," he said firmly. "Wake up Marion."

"Must I?" she groaned, opening her eyes slightly. Her eyes widened suddenly and Merle found a hand firmly in his chest, pushing him out of the way as she rolled, heaving into the dirt. She groaned as there was nothing to bring up except a small amount of saliva and bile, lying back down again.

Merle was standing, looking at the track that he'd pretty much skidded down to get to her. It was climbable but it was narrow, twisty and slippery – he doubted that he could _carry_ her back up – especially with only one hand. He looked up at Simon.

Marion felt herself being lifted, a hand and a stump under her arms and she rested her head against his shoulder, trying to lock her legs in place. "Git ya 'ead up woman," he demanded and she obeyed, wincing as her head impacted rock. His shoulder dropped from her chest head and his arms wrapped around her, moving down until they were around her knees. She felt herself being lifted, her back scraping along the rock. Hands grasped under her arms and Merle's arms released her and she floated in the air for some moments before she felt a warm body behind her. An arm came under her knees and one wrapped under her shoulders, she was cradled in a pair of arms and rested her head against another shoulder. _He smells different_ she thought randomly.

"T'is ain't no fuckin' romance novel," growled a surly voice and she roused slightly. "Ya can't carry a grown woman like that for long, hell ya couldn't carry a kid like that up this track." The arms around her legs were released and she was upright for a moment. There was a pressure in her belly and her world inverted again.

"I thought..." Simon started as Merle upended Marion over his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her legs, the crossbow over his other shoulder and his shotgun in his hand. "It might be better for her head."

"Oh," Merle hesitated as Marion groaned. "Come on – grab her bag," he said and started up the track, Simon throwing her bag over his shoulder and using one hand to brace Marion's head against Merle's back so that it didn't bounce and the other one to brace himself.

The blood rushing to her head had built up to an almost unbearable pressure and tears were streaming from her eyes as they made it back to the car. Simon ran ahead to open the back door and Merle flipped her off his shoulder and into his arms _fuckin' woman was right – she weighs bugger all_, laying her down feet first so that her head was close to the wind coming from the front window. She groaned again and lurched – Merle stepped out of the way quickly as she heaved again, a dribble of saliva rolling down her chin. Simon reached in and gently wiped it away with his sleeve, looking to Merle.

"I don't think she should travel far."

Merle nodded, looking up the road. "We'll go slow until we find something." He looked down at Marion. "No puking in tha truck woman."

She gave him an affirmative finger and he grinned, waiting for her to move out of the way before shutting the door.

...


	23. Chapter 23

I walked the line last chapter about keeping Merle in character. I reasoned it by his conversation with T-Dog saying the something like 'their two kinds could work together, if there was mutual benefit' – plus he has been influenced maybe just a little by Marion? I am going to keep on tiptoeing this chapter...

Chapter 23

Marion awoke when it was almost dark.

She had only dim impressions of the day – Simon had assisted her out of the car, lifting her up in his arms and laying her carefully on the ground, tucking the blankets over her. He'd demanded the answers to some questions –looking for the fact that she knew the answers than actually knowing the answers. He'd let her alone after a while, seemingly satisfied and she'd faded off to sleep. When she'd awoken it was Merle who was asking her specific questions about the _Palace,_ and once satisfied with her answers had lifted her head with his stump and held a cup of something horrid against her lips to drink ("Do I want to know what that is?" had asked Simon quietly, watching as Merle crushed up some pills in the cup and then tipped some powder in before mixing with the water. "No," had answered Merle shortly. "And don't ya be tellin' tha woman eit'er," he'd cautioned. "It'll make her feel better."). He'd been right, when she'd woken up again she'd been able to lift her upper body up. Dog had sat up, his tail thumping against the ground in greeting and she had given his head a rub. "Straighter," had come Merle's voice and she had frowned, lifting her head up a bit further. "Arm up – t'at's it – now try again." There was a solid thunk. "Well ya slowed it down," commented Merle, "now ya 'ave ta finish it off". Marion smiled and lay down again, spotting the cup near her – she sniffed at it suspiciously but drank eagerly when she found it to be untainted. She lay down – Dog moved up along her body and she fell asleep again.

For a moment she stayed still, "Ya got ta 'old it tight – ot'erwise the skin will tear and it's a prick to git off." Marion smiled and moved cautiously up.

"You're awake!" exclaimed Simon, dropping the remains of his squirrel and coming over to her. He squatted down next to her and offered her a cup of water "Do you know your name?"

She took it and drank eagerly, handing it back to him with a smile "Of course I do, it's Marion – Marion Arnold. You're Simon," she glanced around, finding him over the other side of the fire with a few small animals on the log next to him, and smiled at him. "And that's Merle."

Merle pushed himself onto his feet, taking a few steps before squatting down next to the fire, his profile side on to her. He turned slightly, there was no sign of any swelling from her latest bump, although her eyes were still a little heavy in her face. "Ya better woman?"

"Better than I was," she said, pushing herself up. Simon held out his hand and assisted her to scoot back so she could put her back against the log. She smiled up at him before turning back to Merle. "Where are we?"

"Shitworks," replied Merle and for a moment Marion just stared at him. _Wastewater treatment works_ her mind finally clarified and she wondered suddenly about the water that she'd drunk. At least it didn't smell bad – probably had been too long since a new load had come in. "No geeks about," he shrugged "'cept for the ones caught in tha bog and t'ey ain't goin' nowhere." _What exactly _had_ they been shooting at?_ "Tha place 'as got a good sized fence - not'ing goin' to git us 'ere," he continued. "Ya can sleep as much as ya want."

"I think I would like to stay up for a while," she said, taking another cup of water that Simon handed to her. She looked up in surprise as he then offered her a Mintie and gave her a shrugged explanation that there wasn't much else available in the offices but they'd saved some for her. She took it and crunched it once to release the taste, then tucked it against the roof of her mouth and closed her eyes.

"Come on, dinner ain't going ta skin itself," said Merle's voice and she heard Simon moving away. She smiled, opening her eyes and resting her head on the log, gazing at the stars above her as Merle's instructions washed around her.

Merle insisted that she eat a little, refusing to accept her protestations that she'd be sick and giving her small amounts spread over the entire meal. Dog thumped his tail cautiously towards Merle, whose eyes narrowed and Dog's ears dropped. Merle chuckled and reached behind him to grab a squirrel – which he gave in its entirety to Dog. Marion's brows rose _He must have forgiven him after last night_ and she nibbled at her allocated amount while Dog took his prize around the back of the log just in case Merle changed his mind. She was feeling a little better and she accepted another cup of water from Simon to wash it down, followed by another Mintie.

She picked at the can of peaches that Simon gave her, eventually handing it back to him with only a few eaten. Merle looked like he would say something, but Simon caught his eye and shook his head and he closed his mouth. Marion put a hand on the log and pushed herself up to her feet, pausing until the world stopped its slight sway.

"Where are you going?" asked Simon in concern in her ear.

"You've been feeding me water all day," she said sharply. "Join the dots."

Simon blushed a little and ducked his head and she walked around him, Dog trotting at her heels. "She's angry with me," he said in a disappointed tone.

"Marion?" snorted Merle. "She's a forgive and forget type girl. She just likes her privacy, ya can't crowd 'er."

"And you?" asked Simon hesitantly.

"Me?" Merle gave him a glance as he too stood and picked up the shotgun. "I don't forget." He smirked as Simon swallowed. "I'm takin' a piss then I'll do a sweep ta make sure none of t'em geeks 'ave got outta tha bog." Simon nodded as Merle turned away, walking out from their camp in the opposite direction to Marion.

The island that they'd put themselves on wasn't large and he didn't dally during the sweep – the geeks had all been pretty much where they'd left them, a couple were perhaps a little deeper in the goo – their struggles in excitement of smelling food close by having unsettled the balance that they'd had. He dispatched the one that had found the bridge and was pushed up against the fence, pulling the gate open to drag the body into the bog before securing the gate again. He figured that the most he'd have to do in the morning was clean another one or two off the gate before he could get the car back out, but the gate was three metres high with barbed wire at the top – the geeks wouldn't be climbing that. He heard Marion's voice ahead of him and then Simon's answer. "Well there's enough blankets... unless you want to sleep with him?"

Merle stopped.

"No, no, that's alright," he heard her reply after a pause.

_Damn woman can't wait to get away from ya, can she. Bring along someone with a bit of education and she's gone! Even if he is a nigga, _sniggered a voice in his ear, drowning out whatever else was being said.

"Yeah? Then why'd she come to me last night?" he challenged.

_Because you were warm!_ snorted the reply. _But ya morning salute's put her off, ain't it?_

Merle sighed, and started back into the camp. Marion was seated back on her blankets, there was a set within a couple of metres of her and then a third set across the fire. He huffed and made his way to these, almost throwing his shotgun to the ground. He didn't see Marion's mouth open and then close without saying what she had been going to, nor see Simon's hesitation as he returned from the trees, nor their exchanged look before Simon made his way to the blankets nearer Marion. _At least he could leave his boots on,_ he thought in satisfaction as he lay down and pulled the blankets over his shoulders, turning resolutely onto his right side, his left hand holding the shotgun.

"Goodnight gentlemen," she said softly, rolling onto her side.

"Goodnight," replied Simon.

There was something like a grunt from across the fire and she smiled to herself. Simon had given her heaps of blankets, having recovered some with Merle earlier in the offices (apparently there was such a thing as night shift at the Works) and she was warm – but it wasn't the same warmth as being encased by a body _but he obviously didn't want to be near her. Maybe he didn't want to be raped_ suggested a tart voice and she snorted quietly, shaking her head over her behaviour _was it really only that morning?_ turning over and folding her arms against her body. She heard a couple of shuffles across the fire but then there was silence. Dog padded over from where he'd sat with Simon until the man fell asleep and pushed up against her waist, sitting his head on the small of her back while he gazed out into the night and gradually she fell asleep.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

The growl made her stir slightly in her sleep. She wasn't really all that comfortable, the floor was cold and hard, but her belly was full and she needed the sleep. "Sit down mutt," she muttered, crossing her arms tighter across her chest and letting herself fade into sleep again. The next growl was louder and she glared at the sorry excuse for a dog _bloody yappy mutt_ and kicked out a foot. The dog yelped and ran out of the kitchen and she snorted, closing her eyes again. The dog barked and she swore "Unless you really want to become my lunch mutt, shut the hell up!" She should of course get up and go to bed, but that thought sent a shudder through her frame. _Perhaps the couch?_ she wondered. But it was too much effort to get up so she snuggled down as best she could. She heard another growl and then a noise of vehicles outside – big ones from the sound of it. _Probably Larry and Bo_ she thought dully. There was another growl and she grimaced, resolutely ignoring him. Then suddenly her hand exploded in pain and she gasped, opening her eyes and seeing the dog latched onto it. "Why you little..." she started and then a movement caught her eye and she looked up. _Oh God no_. She screamed.

Marion sat up abruptly, almost throwing Dog into the fire from his position on her chest. She sighed, wiping at the still wet skin from where he'd been licking her and from where her tears had run, reaching out her hand to touch him. "Thanks bud," she murmured as he snuggled into her.

A snore ripped through the air and she jumped, her eyes crossing the still burning fire and lighting with amusement. He was spread wide, flat on his back, head pointed to the sky and mouth wide open. Another snore _like a chainsaw_ ripped through the night and she snorted. "Does he do this every night?" she said to Dog, wondering why she hadn't heard him before. "Oh for fuck's sake," she breathed as another snore exploded. She cast around and found one of her boots within reach. She picked it up and lobbed it over the fire, wincing then breathing a sigh of relief as it hit the ground just between his legs before bouncing and landing on his belly. He grunted, snorted and then rolled over, his arm reaching out ahead of him for a few seconds before his breathing slowed and the silence of the night was restored. She smiled and lay back down again, patting Dog as she stared up at the night.

She'd been quiet for a while, starting to drop off, when she heard the noise and she opened her eyes, frowning. The noise sounded again, almost a whimper and Dog whined. She sat up a little: he was looking across the fire, his ears down. Merle thrashed around a little, obviously in the throes of some type of nightmare.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

The night had been one of the longest of his life. The noises from the door had faded slightly with the night – they couldn't see him anymore, although every now and again a burst of breeze had sent his scent their way and the howls of hunger had started up again. Now that dawn had managed to creep over the top of the building they could see him again and their noise had started up again. He looked down at the hacksaw – it had taken him most of the previous day to snag it with his belt, cursing and swearing all the time – at Officer Friendly _whoever the fuck he was_, at the nigga for getting him into the situation to start with, at the chink for being a chink, at _tha pussy_ Daryl for not being there yet, at God for his life. He'd tried it against the handcuffs for hours, falling asleep from sheer exhaustion before snapping awake and sawing away again.

The geeks frothed at the mouth, pushing harder and harder at the door which banged ominously under their pressure. They were coming. It was only a matter of time. He looked at the hacksaw, at the cuffs which it hadn't been able to make a dent in. The roar of the geeks faded into the background behind his breathing and pumping of his blood. He grabbed his belt in his teeth and yanked it tight. He placed the blade on the skin and using all the force he could muster, he dragged the blade back.

Dog yelped as Merle erupted with a shout, cut off almost immediately as he woke up, his hand grabbing at the mass on his chest.

"Wha' tha fuck?" he demanded, looking at Dog caught in his hand. Dog whined and Merle let him go, watching as he ran back around the fire to sit almost shivering next to Marion. "Wha' tha hell is wrong wit' tha mutt?"

"He was waking you up," she replied indignantly. "You were dreaming."

Merle wiped his face with this hand, shuddering slightly, his stump throbbing with remembered pain. "Wha' ya doin' awake? Ya feelin' alright?"

She smiled slightly tremulously. "I'm fine." She hesitated. "You?"

He gave her a baleful glare, but it must have been diluted by the distance and the slight heat wave rising from the fire because she didn't blink. "Not'in' I can't deal wit'," he replied grumpily after a while. He moved up a little and propped himself against a log, looking up at the stars. "Winter's comin'."

"It's not here already?" she asked sceptically, shivering slightly.

"Na – t'is is just Mot'er Nature workin' 'er way into it," he replied. "Soon tha days are going ta get colder and tha nights will be dangerous."

"Is it going to snow?"

Merle shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. At 'ome it would, norm'lly just around Christmas – not as likely this far south though. Won't matter much though – tha wind will come off snow and it'll freeze ya as quick. And t'ere will be ice storms in tha comin' months."

Marion winced – they were ill prepared for anything like that. Merle's word echoed her thoughts. "Hope Simon's town has got wha' we're goin' ta need ta git us t'rough." Something caught his eyes and he leaned down to pick up her boot – he tipped it over, then his eyes met hers again across the fire.

She shrugged. "You were snoring."

He snorted, "I don't fuckin' snore,' he snapped, lobbing the boot back over towards her.

Her eyes lit with amusement, but before she could continue the discussions, a noise to her side made her turn, Dog whined. Simon muttered something else in his sleep, his hands twitching and his body shaking. Dog hopped away from Marion and trotted over, nosing at Simon's face. "Ruthy!" he called and sat up suddenly, staring first at Marion and then at Merle.

"Mornin' After Dark," smirked Merle and Marion's eyes rolled.

...


	24. Chapter 24

If you're not religious this could be a bit tedious, but I cannot imagine that the issue wouldn't come up.

Chapter 24

"A glitch!" she exclaimed in triumph and Simon laughed.

Merle shook his head. It has started with a discussion of what had happened at the previous camp and a decision, by Marion and Simon anyway, that they needed a _collective noun no less_ for the dead.

"I mean, there's a herd of cattle, a flock of birds," said Marion.

"A litter of kittens, a pod of whales," added Simon. He had seated himself in the front again, but this time he carried the shotgun.

"A crash of rhinos, a murder of crows," said Marion.

"Horseshit," snorted Merle.

"No, really," she insisted, half hanging over the front seat, her _fuckin' _seatbelt stretched as far as it would go. "There's some other really weird ones – a cackle of hyenas, a leap of leopards, a _congregation _of magpies."

"A what of what?" grinned Simon.

"Ya makin' t'is shit up," pronounced Merle, relaxed behind the driver's seat again. They'd waited until the sun was up before moving that morning, although all of them had been awake for hours and none of them were even considering going back to sleep. Marion had been a little uncertain on her feet for a little while, but had managed to eat a reasonable breakfast, although the contents of the tins had not been really breakfast worthy and she and Simon had reminisced about cereals, bacon and eggs, pikelets with jam and whipped cream, pancakes and maple syrup, poached eggs and hollandaise sauce _whatever tha fuck tha' was_. Merle had contentedly cooked a poptart on the fire.

"I am not," she exclaimed. "I used to have this piece of paper with all the collective nouns on it. There's an unkindness of ravens, an escargatoire of snails and one of my personal favourites, a parliament of owls. Of course," she added meticulously "I cannot vouch entirely for its accuracy."

"A funeral of dead?" suggested Simon. "A coffin of bodies?"

Marion screwed up her nose.

"A ghosting," said Merle almost despite himself and she grinned at him.

"A wake?" added Simon.

"A Halloween?" put in Merle.

Simon looked at him suddenly. "That'd have to be coming up wouldn't it?"

"Wha'? Ya t'inkin' of trick or treatin'?" scoffed Merle.

"I just thought it would be good to know the date," shrugged Simon, deflating slightly.

Merle rolled his eyes to the rearview mirror – her eyes were slightly unfocused, her teeth gripping her lower lip. "I think it was Wednesday" she concluded after a while. She saw two blank looks, "the day before yesterday." She'd been meticulous when it came to keeping the days, marking off each morning on the calendar – she'd taken flowers to Rachel on her birthday – she wouldn't be able to do that for Jenny and she sniffed suddenly, Merle's eyes narrowed.

"A computation of geeks," he said loudly in the sudden silence.

She turned back to him with a grin, although her eyes were suspiciously bright, and Simon laughed. "That's a good one – look out! There's a big computation coming towards us!"

"Well what else ya got?" demanded Merle, although mildly, his face relaxed.

There was silence for a moment as they all racked their brains. "A glitch!" she exclaimed in triumph and Simon laughed. "A glitch of geeks!" she was grinning like a madwoman and Merle couldn't help but laugh. Marion looked at him, blinking as she saw how his face lightened. Dog barked and wagged his tail and she shook herself. "See – Dog thinks it's a good idea!"

The sign for the town limits came into view and they sobered. Simon propped the shotgun against the edge of the window, though not far enough for it to get snagged on anything. Marion propped her cross bow behind him – he could almost have scratched his ear with the arrow if he'd been so inclined. Merle slowed a little, looking around. It was a typical middle America town – houses set back off the road, manicured lawns and gardens, little white picket fences. There were geeks around, but randomly – not 'glitch' worthy.

"Left," she said urgently in his ear and without thinking he turned the wheel. Simon grabbed for the door and Dog yelped as he slid across the seat. Merle looked in the side mirror, Simon swivelling around to look out the window.

"Wha' tha hell was t'at for?" he demanded, not seeing anything that needed him to turn and getting only a blank look and shrug from Simon. He looked up in the rear view mirror, looking at her eyes – pointed straight towards them. He dropped his own eyes.

"There," she breathed and his eyes rolled.

"Ya fuckin' kiddin' me," he exploded. "Fuck woman – ya scared tha shit outta me!"

"Sorry," she smiled. "But I just saw the sign."

Merle pulled to a stop in front of the little stone church, Welcome to St Johns Anglican Church said one sign out the front, He WILL Return, said another and he snorted. But she was already moving, reaching over and opening the door. "Woman," he growled, pulling the key out and throwing his own door open, overtaking Simon with several large steps. "Hey!" he yelled, reaching out to catch her elbow. She turned to him. "Wha' tha fuck do ya t'ink ya doin'?"

"I just want to go in for a while," she replied. She saw the expression on his face. "It's All Souls Day," she explained.

_Fuck_. "It ain't going to be empty," warned Merle. "It'll be full of all the weak pricks begging God to save 'em."

"There's nothing weak about faith Merle," she replied firmly. _But she could understand why he would think so_. "It often takes more strength to believe."

He snorted. It wasn't that he didn't believe in God – it's just that he had no time for Him – hadn't in a long long time. He remembered his momma taking him to church as a young kid, all starched up with his only collared shirt and jacket, his best pants pressed and shoes shiny. She'd slick his hair down with water and scrub at his face until it almost stung. He'd have to sit absolutely still through the whole damn thing while she followed the service with her little missal, singing along to every hymn and pointing to the words for him even when he couldn't yet read. She sometimes had to wear sunglasses into the church but she never missed one. After she'd left he'd never stepped inside one again.

"You still believe in God?" asked Simon quietly. "After everything that has happened?"

"Believe?" she repeated and her face softened. "Oh yes, I believe. I mean – sometimes I wonder," she shrugged. "Why He let the world go to shit like it has, why He took my family from me. I wonder if perhaps He is punishing us for how we live, what we've done to the Earth, what we did to each other. Did He just get jack of us all and decided to wipe the slate clean – like He did with the Flood. But if that's the case – what did I do right to get left here? Or maybe, what did I do wrong to get left here? I wonder if perhaps He is down here somewhere with us, whether He was kicked out of Heaven by the Devil, if maybe Satan is in charge at the moment. That maybe there's a war being waged between angels and demons, and that our fate depends on who wins."

"But believe?" she paused and turned around, nodding to the vista behind them. Like most churches, St Johns sat on a hill and behind them they could see the town backdropped by the Georgian farmland, forest and in the distance the mountains. The air was crystal clear, the coming winter had turned the trees to different shades. It was quite spectacular. "Look out at there. How can you doubt the existence of God when you look at that?"

Merle snorted again and her face relaxed into amusement. She walked around the side of the building to where there was a series of stain glass window – but they were out of reach. She turned around and Simon walked up to her. He crouched down and after a second she moved to straddle his neck and he rose up, his hands up on her thighs to hold her steady. Simon took a step forward so she could look in the window and she hissed, he stumbled backwards in alarm and she bent down to stabilise her weight, but she was too late and like a tree toppling the two of them leaned over backwards further and further until with a thump, they hit the ground.

Marion groaned, disentangling her legs from around Simon's arms and head. She glared at Merle, who was pissing himself laughing, almost collapsed against a statue.

"Are you alright?" groaned Simon, turning on his belly to look up at her.

She nodded, sitting up and looking around for something to throw at Merle, but there was nothing, so she dragged herself to her feet, reaching down her hand and helping Simon up. "Are you done?" she demanded Merle sourly, moving back to stand next to him. He straightened, wiping his eyes. "It wasn't that funny," she added, rubbing at her back.

Merle lifted his brow and lurched forward, then back, then windmilled his arms in a parody. Her lips twitched and she slapped her hand across his chest even as he laughed again, catching it and holding it for a second. She looked up and smiled at him and his laughter dried up.

"What was it like?" asked Simon in the sudden silence.

Marion swallowed and retrieved her hand. "Not pretty," she admitted. "It's not quite full but there would be about fifteen in there."

"So leave 'em t'ere," said Merle. "T'ey ain't 'urting anyone in t'ere." He shrugged when she turned to him. "Fifteen geek against t'ree of us – why bot'er?"

Simon nodded. "He's right Marion – let's just go to the mall and..."

"No," she said firmly. "It's not right to leave them like that."

"T'ey ain't suff'ring," snorted Merle.

"Would you want someone you love to be left like that?" she demanded harshly, putting her hands on her hips.

"Ya goin' to go on a crusade and kill all tha geeks?" he sneered to avoid answering the question.

"No," she shook her head. "Just these ones, just on this day, just here."

Merle looked into her face. Her brown eyes were set, there was no hint of wavering in them. _He could just throw her over his shoulder_ he thought, and lifted his eyes to Simon. Simon was looking back at him, a question in his eyes. _Fuck_. He rolled his eyes and nodded once, reaching behind his back to retract the silenced weapon.

Marion handed the cross bow to Simon and picked up the sword from against the side wall of the church. She turned around: both men were set and she pushed open one of the doors. Dog pranced into the building and gave a little yip.

They came out in a shambling clump – jammed in the doorway as they reached for the dog just out of their reach. "'old it," growled Merle as Simon lifted the weapon. "Ya kill 'em t'ere and we'll never git tha rest of 'm out. Watch yaself," he called out more loudly as the clump heaved once, twice and for final third time and a geek lurched forward towards Marion. She edged back and over to the side, lifting her sword and slicing. "Now," grunted Merle and with a whoosh the crossbow released – directly in the head of the lead geek. Merle fired once and stepped in front of Simon as the man reloaded, his gun spitting at one, two and three of the geeks in front of him.

"Ready," said a voice behind him and he nodded, the bolt whooshed past his ear and thunked into the eye socket of what used to be an old woman who was advancing on them with an open mouth. He grunted in approval and took a step forward, firing again.

Marion grimaced as she withdrew the sword from the eye socket of who could have been the preacher's wife. Dog ran past her and she whirled the sword – it crunched through the skull of the geek chasing him. She stepped to the side quickly as another set of hands lunged at her, it stumbled over the body in front of it and she took advantage to slice its head off. She whirled and paused – there was no more left. She looked up, Merle was still braced ready to fire as he stepped through, examining the remains of the geeks on the ground. He looked up and met her eyes, nodding once. "Dog," she said and he trotted into the church, Merle stalking after him with the gun raised. There was a minute of nothing and then they came back out, Merle's hand relaxed at his side.

"Clear," he said as he came out, Dog sitting to scratch vigorously behind his ear.

Marion took a deep breath and sitting the sword against the side of the building, stepped in.

Merle shook his head to himself, pulled off his vest and reached down to grab one of the geeks by the legs. Simon looked after Marion for a moment before turning to Merle "What are you doing?"

"Gitting ahead of tha game," replied Merle, dragging the geek along the grass by his ankles. "Ya reckon she's goin' to let us leave 'em 'ere like t'is?"

Simon chuckled and bent over to drag another body to where Merle had left his. It was the work of a few minutes to get all the bodies in one pile and Merle turned to go to the car – he resented the use of the fuel but there was no way that he could get them burnt without it. Simon watched him soak the pile with the fuel and stepped in to strike the match – there was a whoosh and he stepped back hurriedly, moving out of the way of the black smoke that billowed from the pile.

Merle glanced towards the church – Dog sat on the threshold, snoozing in the sun. He turned around and saw Simon staring at the doorway _fuck_. "I got it 'ere," he said and Simon looked at him in surprise. Merle dipped his head to the church "Ya want ta go, t'en go."

Simon swallowed then nodded. "Thanks Merle."

"Whatever," he muttered, rolling his eyes as Simon disappeared in the doorway. He turned back to the fire, using his foot to push a leg back into the flames. He put his hand up against his chest, rubbing idly until he realised what he was doing _Fuck_ he thought and reached over to throw a stray arm back into the fire.

Marion heard the footsteps and looked around, smiling as Simon walked up to her and sat down next to where she was kneeling. She turned back to the altar, her lips sitting on the top of her fingers, the palms of her hands pressed together. She sighed and lifted her hands, crossing herself before leaning back, although staying on her knees.

"What do you pray for?" asked Simon quietly.

"Lots of things," she smiled slightly. "I thank God for what I have – for granting me safety, for granting me shelter, for granting me food, for granting me one more day." She turned to look at the back of the church and then to Simon, lowering her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "I thank Him for Merle, for bringing him to me, for his protection."

"You don't ask for anything?" he said in a whisper.

"Oh yes," she said. "I pray for the souls of the dead. I ask Mother Mary to take my children under her hand and guide them to where their father and the rest of our family are awaiting them, for her to comfort them – to be their mother until I get there." She looked around, regretting the absence of the familiar statue_._ "I ask for forgiveness. I pray for the courage to deal with the challenges that are in front of me, the strength to carry on, for guidance to make the right decisions."

"Forgiveness?" he repeated after a slight hesitation.

"For every life I've taken," she said evenly. She looked up at him and saw the stricken look on his face. "I've killed a lot of them Simon and while I know that they're not really people anymore, they used to be. I don't want to go to Hell – I want to see my family again."

"I miss them," he murmured, kneeling down beside her. "My family – I miss them."

"So do I Simon," she placed her hand over his.

He snorted and she turned to him with a frown. "At least you have someone else now."

Her jaw clenched and she dropped his hand. "I miss my husband and children with every fibre of my being. But they're in a better place - I know that," she said almost fiercely. She turned to him. "As are your family."

"How can you be so sure?" he demanded.

"Faith," she replied sadly. "Trust Simon – that somewhere there is a plan. That there is a reason for all of this."

"Reason?" he scoffed scornfully, pain evident in his voice. "What possible reason could God have for doing something like this?" he demanded.

"I don't have an answer to that," she repeated. "I pray that I might understand though."

"What's the point of praying?" he exclaimed, standing from his knees and backing out of the pew. "Did you pray for the life of your daughter? When she was sick?" Marion swallowed but nodded, looking up into his anguished brown eyes. "Did you pray for the life of your husband?" She nodded again.

"But what happened to them?" he continued. "They turned into monsters! Those horrible walking dead – those geeks that will eat you if they can catch you. God wasn't listening then was He?"

Marion flinched, but faced him resolutely. "He was listening Simon. It's just His answer was 'no'." (1)

Simon cried out in pain. "NO?" he yelled at her before turning to the statue that overlooked the church. "No?" he yelled. "What sort of fucking answer is that? How could you do that to us? How could you taken everyone we loved? Turn them into soul-less zombies with the shells of the people we love?" He stood there, his breath heaving. He turned to Marion. "If that's His answer – then He can go get fucked!"

"Simon," she called but he flung himself around and stormed out of the church, slamming the door shut.

Marion sighed, turning back to the altar. "Please Lord, give Simon some comfort. Let the warmth of your love flood through him, so that even though he doesn't understand, he can find acceptance." She paused and then her lips twisted into a smile. "I ask too that you offer some comfort to Merle – You'll have to be discreet about it though because he won't want it and I'm afraid that he may not be polite." She heard a loud noise behind her and turned with a frown. The door was shut, but the sun was shining through the windows – albeit in a rainbow of colours through the stain glass. She turned back to the altar, looking up at the statue of Christ for several minutes, no actual words or thoughts being processed, just letting her emotions wash through her, conveying the pain, the confusion, the yearning into a silent prayer.

She sniffed, wincing at the acrid smell of smoke. Merle had obviously dealt with the bodies and she had to admit to a slight feeling of relief, although tinged with guilt of having left him to it. She stood, stepping out of the pew and then turning back to the altar. She genuflected and crossed herself, turning to walk down the aisle back to the door. She reached out and pulled – the door didn't open. She frowned and pushed – the door wobbled but didn't move.

A puff of smoke came in under the door and she stepped back, surprise holding her still for some moments. _Had the fire gotten out of control?_ She heard Dog bark, then yelp. She reached for the door handle with both hands and rattled at it, the door banging in its frame – but not opening. _Almost as if something was holding it closed_ she thought. "Merle? Simon?" she called out through the gap in between the doors. She placed her eye against the crack – she recoiled from the over whelming smell of fuel. "Merle?" she called again and grabbed at the door handle again. "Merle?" she yelled this time but her word was overborne by the whoosh of the doors exploding into flame.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) It's not a classic line, but it was in "The Pretender" – a TV show that I really enjoyed too many years ago to try and remember. I always liked it – I mean otherwise, there would be a lot more millionaires around wouldn't there.


	25. Chapter 25

Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 25

Merle paused at the car, looking down the street. There were still some figures wandering aimlessly around amongst the houses, but their work had been silent and so far none of them were even moving in their direction. "Fuck it woman, how many prayers do ya know," he muttered. He heard the door slam and shot the street another look – there was no movement. "Stupid bitch," he complained and turned back to walk towards the church. He saw Simon stalking out of the doorway, right over to the fire, he frowned as he saw him grab the container with the rest of the fuel in it and turn back to the church. "Wha' tha fuck?" he demanded and started to run.

"You're nothing!" yelled Simon, splashing the fuel onto the timber doors, the sword pushed from one door handle to the other. "You hear me – nothing! I reject You – I hate You!" he pulled the matches from his pocket, and struck one.

Merle hit him around the waist, the match falling to the ground and going out. Merle straddled him "Wha' tha fuck do ya t'ink ya doing?" he exclaimed.

"It's all lies," screamed Simon, a wild look in his eyes. "Look at all those people – they all believed and we just slaughtered them like they were beasts." He deflated, his next words a whisper. "How could a god let that happen? How could He?"

Merle shrugged, lifting his leg and sitting on the ground, his back to Simon. "Who tha fuck knows?"

"He won't get away with it anymore," he said and reached out, grabbing the gun from Merle's waistband. He pointed it at Merle's head as he turned suddenly. "He won't bring anymore people here to die."

"Simon – wha' ya doin'?" asked Merle, bracing his hand on the ground beside him as Simon stood, keeping the gun pointed at his forehead.

"I'm going to burn it to the ground," Simon replied breathlessly. "I'm going to erase it from this earth – like He's trying to do to us."

"Marion's in there man," protested Merle.

"She'll get to her children," smiled Simon. "She'll be with her _family_." His eyes snapped into focus as Merle moved. "Your family might not be dead Merle – do you want risk going to hell before them?" The gun's safety snicked off.

Merle subsided, looking down the barrel and then up into the eyes behind it. Wide eyes, wide eyes that were darting all over the place – that had a look of crazy about them. Eyes that would pull the trigger. "Simon," he started.

"Nigga don't you mean?" sneered Simon, stepping backwards, lifting the gun as Merle leant forward and started to crawl after him. "That's all I am to you. All I'll ever be."

"I showed ya 'ow to shoot dammit," objected Merle _another great move on your part brother – teach the crazy nigga how to shoot ya between the eyes!_ "I shared food wit' ya, I shared drink wit' ya.' He paused, then pointed his stump at the church. "_She_ let you in – she rescued you!"

"She should have left me to die," he said bitterly, pulling out the match box with one hand. "If she knew what I'd done, she would have."

A chill went through Merle, but he kept still, watching the gun as Simon extracted a match. _It would be only a millisecond._ "Wha' ya talkin' 'bout?" he asked to keep him talking, tensing his muscles.

"My family," Simon looked at him directly and Merle saw the coldness settle in them. "_I _killed them."

"Ya wha'?" blinked Merle.

"They were coming," explained Simon. "The geeks – a glitch if you will," he gave a twisted smile, but no warmth entered his eyes. "Mum pleaded with me to do something – to protect her, Dad, my sisters, my nephew. So I did – I shot them. Ruthy asked me not to – but I told her, it was better this way. She'd go to Heaven – she could wait for me there." His teeth clenched. "But I'm not going to Heaven am I? I'm going to Hell for what I did." He struck the match.

Merle dived just as the flame flared into life – he heard the spit and felt the sharp pain on his shoulder. He hit Simon in the knees and with the thump the taller man hit the ground, the gun bouncing out of his hand. Dog barked, running into the two men, then yelped as the bodies lurched in struggle almost squashing him. Merle came up on top and lifted his right arm to level a punch _fuck_ he thought before Simon's fist came up and struck him across the chin. He was flung to the side and Simon followed him, holding him down with one hand as he flung another punch into his face, then another and another. Merle heaved, flinging his left hand up in a hammer like blow that caught Simon flush in the ribs – Merle felt the crunch and smirked. He heaved again and came to his feet, Simon met him with a neat jab to his jaw and then followed with some blows to his ribs.

Simon was taller and at some stage, apparently, had received boxing lessons. He was lithe and quick, graceful on his feet. But Merle had grown up by the seat of his pants under the blow of a fist – he rolled with whatever Simon handed him and returned it with interest. He used his head, he used his feet, he used his elbows, he used every dirty trick that he'd learnt as a kid and since, in and out of jail. Simon's head was bleeding above the eye and his lip was split in a couple of places – but he was fighting with almost a berserker type commitment.

"Enough!" yelled a voice and Merle turned.

Marion held the silenced weapon on them, moving the barrel back and forth between them. Her face and hands were bleeding from a multitude of small cuts from her passage through a window. "What the _fuck_ is going on here?" she demanded harshly.

"The redneck's gone crazy!" replied Simon. "He tried to kill me."

Merle growled but held still as the gun was currently pointed at him.

"And who tried to kill _me_?" she asked icily. Marion looked at Merle – bleeding from a split lip, his singlet shirt torn half off, breathing heavily, his fists clenched at his side. He lifted his eyes and met hers. She turned the gun onto Simon.

Simon saw the look – saw the message pass between them. He yelled and reached forward, grabbing Merle around the neck – pulling a gun from his waistband and putting it to Merle's head. Marion froze, lowering her weapon.

_Where the fuck had that come from?_ wondered Merle, he knew the only one of the guns he'd given Simon was the shotgun. And he had never had a 6 shot revolver like that.

"I did it for you," he pleaded to her, his grip around Merle's neck savage. "You miss them so much – it's not fair for you to be kept away from them."

"So you thought you'd _kill_ me?" she exclaimed. "Who gave you the right to make that decision?"

"He's made it before," said Merle warningly, her eyes flicked to him in shocked horror before turning back to Simon.

"You said yourself – they're in a better place," Simon _bleated_ and Merle's eyes rolled. He tensed his shoulders and winced as the gun pushed further into his head. He met Marion's eyes – they were warning him _wait_. He clenched his jaw. "I couldn't let them be attacked – become one of them. I did them a favour," he insisted.

"Perhaps you did Simon," she allowed. "But I want to live. I decided that a long time ago."

"Haven't you ever considered..." Simon's voice trailed off.

Marion swallowed, meeting Merle's eyes briefly again. "I have. I came close to – when I thought there was no hope. But there's always hope Simon, there's always something to live for."

"Hope?" he scoffed. "What hope is there if we're all going to turn into one of them?"

_Wha? _thought Merle. _Where had that come from?_

"That's only a guess Simon – I could be wrong," said Marion. "Please – let him go. Let's talk about all this."

"Talk?" laughed Simon, the sound a grating parody of humour. "Merle Dixon – talk? He doesn't _talk_ Marion – he acts. I don't understand what you see in him – your husband must be rolling in his grave."

Merle swore, bucking his shoulders – Simon rode the movement easily and pushed the gun harder into his head.

Marion flinched and lifted the weapon. "Let him go Simon."

"Or what?" he mocked. "You're going to shoot me Marion? You won't be able to seek forgiveness for that one," he nodded at the church. The fire was well and truly lit, having moved from the door into the internal walls and up along the roof. The noise was increasing, the heat making them sweat.

"I don't need a church to pray Simon," she replied, the gun held steady. She flicked her gaze to Merle _she can't make the shot_ he realised. His head was too close to Simon, she was afraid that she'd miss. He nodded slightly and her eyes flicked back to Simon. "But I don't want to shoot you – please let him go. If you don't want to stay with us, that's fine – we'll go through the supplies, help you get a car." _We will, will we_ Merle thought savagely.

"Come with me," urged Simon _As if the bastard hadn't just tried to cook her alive_. "You know it's only a matter of time..."

"Enough Simon," her voice cracked out as only that of a mother or drill sergeant could. "I'm travelling with Merle to Fort Benning – end of discussion. Now, let... him... go!"

Marion watched the emotions play over Simon's face, the hurt, the guilt, the fear, the hate. _Please God no_ she thought.

Simon shoved Merle in the back so he staggered to the ground and lifted his gun.

Merle heard the spit and it took a moment for his mind to process the absence of pain and the different sound. He rolled over onto his back and saw Simon's hand release the gun, his face blank as he slowly tumbled to the ground, a gaping hole through the middle of his chest. He turned around, Marion was still in place, the gun held extended in front of her. She seemed to mentally shake herself and lowered the gun, talking one step before having to stop as Dog started jumping all over her, yipping and barking in a frenzy. Merle snorted and pushed himself to his feet, grimacing at the pain the simple movement caused him. He walked over to where Simon's body lay, his lip curling before he reached over to pick up the gun. He flicked it open and froze _her, Dad, my sisters, my nephew, _6 shots.

"Ya fuckin' stupid nigga!" he yelled, and kicked the body, hurling the gun at it. "Ya crazy, demented, selfish black bastard!" he kicked the body again and again. "Ya piece of shit, worthless .."

"Merle!" Marion's horrified voice and face got in his way.

He flung himself away from her, swearing.

"Please Merle," she almost pleaded, her voice teetering on the edge. "I need you to stop."

He stopped, putting his hand on top of his head. "Tha fuckin' nigga almost burnt ya to a crisp..." he started.

"Don't you make this about race Merle," she ordered. "He was a tormented soul," she continued softly, still next to the body. "I should have seen it – the way Dog was trying to look after him. It was the same way he looked after me."

"T'ia ain't your fault woman," he snarled at her.

"How can't it be?" she smiled at him sadly, bending down to pick up the gun.

"Don't," he said suddenly, taking a step forward and holding out his hand.

She gave him a puzzled look, and then looked at the gun. The horror dawned on her face and the gun dropped out of her limp hand, she staggered back a couple of steps. She looked up at him "I killed him."

"No ya didn't," he refuted, stepping forward to grab her by the shoulders with one hand and a stump. "He used ya – he didn't have the stones to do it 'imself – so he used me to make ya take the burden." He held her eyes with his own. "It ain't your fault woman."

She pulled away from him, covering her mouth. There was a crack and she looked up, Dog yelped as the roof of the church imploded and the frame crashed down.

"Come on – let's git outta 'ere," said Merle next to her shoulder.

She shook her head. "Not yet," she turned back to Simon.

"Ya ain't going ta bury 'im," he exploded.

"No," she shook her head again. "Not yet." She took a breath and then looked up at him, her voice stronger now. "I want to see if he turns."

Merle frowned. "Why tha hell would he? He's dead."

"Bear with me," she requested. "You remember that man that had my sword. Well he was alive that afternoon and a geek the next day. Of all the people I saw sick – it took them at least three days to die. I couldn't understand how he would get from living to a geek so quickly. And then I remembered something – that dead man on the stairs? That we stepped over? He ended a geek too – he was one of the ones who chased me down the street. Now how is that possible? He wasn't bitten when we first saw him – was he? He had been shot. So how did he turn?"

"So I got to thinking about this disease. It obviously starts with the flu like sickness – I've seen sick people die and come back. And perfectly healthy people can also get sick if they are bitten or scratched – probably any exchange of bodily fluids will do it. But none of that explains what happens at the _Palace_ – the geek that rose from the dead, the absence of the bodies of the men killed by the explosion, what they were shooting at, why they left before they were ready. So I got to wondering – what if there's two types of infection? What if there's an airborne virus that attacks your system through your respiratory system _and_ something that is carried through the blood – but is dormant until you die. "

Merle blinked, trying to follow her train of thought. "So why do ya git sick if ya bitten or scratched – t'at's carried t'rough tha blood."

"But it's come from the respiratory infection."

"So ya reckon that we've all got t'is second virus inside us?" he demanded. "T'at turns us into geeks when we die."

She shrugged. "I'm no microbiologist – but it's a working theory." She nodded at Simon's body. "One we can test." (1)

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle prowled around the church, looking around for geeks that may have been attracted by the fire. There'd been a few, but the burning geeks had apparently put a dead smell in the air and those that he'd killed, silently with the silenced gun or his knife, had really just been wandering along. The afternoon had progressed, it would be night soon. He looked along the side of the shell of the church to where she sat, Dog curled up in between her legs, the crossbow close to her side. She'd hardly moved since she'd convinced him to wait around. It had taken a bit – he wanted nothing more than to just get into the car and get as far away from the cursed place as he could. But she'd argued with him that this was something that she wanted to know, that she needed to know. So finally he'd agreed – not only because he suspected that he'd have to carry her away, but because her sword was still too hot to retrieve from the ashes near the front of the church and because – well he wanted to know as well.

"We're goin' to have to set up camp," he said as he came up behind her.

She nodded, but made no move.

"Ya want somet'in' ta eat?" he asked again.

She shuddered a little and shook her head. "No thanks Merle."

"Ya need ta eat somet'in'," he insisted.

She sighed and looked up at him. "Not today Merle, please?"

He sighed and crouched down beside her. "'ow long ya goin' ta wait?"

"You don't care, do you" she asked, slightly enviously.

He shrugged. "I did wha' I could ta 'elp 'im – he chose not ta accept it." He looked at her _fucker's lucky you did kill him – he would have torn the prick to shreds_. "T'ere's some people ya just can't save."

Marion sighed and ducked her head.

Dog growled and they both turned towards the body. In some type of fascinated horror they watched as Simon's hands flopped, his hands clenching, a slight noise coming out of his throat. His head rolled a little, towards them and his eyes opened – the brown obscured as if with cataracts, a grey white film over the top. What used to be Simon growled and moaned, rolling to get to his feet.

Merle dragged Marion to her feet with an arm under hers. She staggered against him, catching the whimper with her hand across her mouth. Dog barked, getting in between them and the now geek.

"Dog," said Merle and the animal retreated behind them. Simon-geek growled and Merle pointed the weapon, firing and it dropped to the ground, finally dead. Marion turned and emptied her stomach onto the grass.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle sat up against the car door, his legs spread out along the seat, his left hand propped with the weapon pointed out the open window. He moved his shoulder slightly to adjust the pressure on his back. Marion lay between his legs, her hips hard against his upper thigh, her shoulder buried underneath his, her back pressed against the seat and his stump wrapped around her feeling every breath of Dog's from his perch along her side. Her head was on his chest – her breathing was even but he knew she didn't sleep. They were covered with blankets, he was almost sweating – but her shudders wouldn't stop.

"It'll never happen to ya woman," he said quietly.

There was silence and then, "promise?" the word was barely audible. "You'll do what is needed?"

"I promise," he returned. He hesitated, the vision of Simon rising as a geek in front of him "Will you ..."

"Deal."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) I daresay that there are a number of fics which attempt to explain the way the disease works, however I have only read one and that was partially (Day 100 by Last of the Lilac Wine) to avoid any unintentional copying. Any similarity to any other stories is purely co-incidental due to great minds thinking alike!


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

"Do you have a quarter?"

"Wha' tha fuck would I need one of t'ose for?" he scoffed, turning back towards her.

He'd woken that morning with his face buried in her hair, the strands tickling his nose, an overwhelming smell of... burnt dead people. It totally enveloped the car – the smoke having changed direction during the night and come straight into the open window. He'd kicked a couple of blankets off during the night and she had huddled in closer to him, her hips now over the top of his, her breasts squashed against his chest, her hand having slipped from its position on his chest down to his lower belly, her little finger edging along his belt. His body awoke to all of the associated sensations and he bit back a groan.

Dog growled quietly and he opened his eyes, his finger clenching on the trigger as the geek paused by the window. It didn't look at them, although it sniffed once then twice, before continuing on its lopsided walk. Another followed after it, its eyes focused ahead of them. He heard a noise behind him and rolled his eyes, the geek was barely a foot away from the window, half its face hanging away from the skull. He swallowed but it kept moving, as did the one behind it. _The smell_ he realised suddenly. They smelt dead.

Dog wagged his tail and laid down his head and Merle dared to breathe again, lifting up slightly to look out the back window at the _glitch_ wandering away. Marion stirred and he suddenly remembered the condition that his body was in – he felt her stiffening as she also realised it. _Fuck_.

Marion sat up carefully, extracting herself away from his _very_ awake body. _It's just a morning thing _she thought. _Nothing to do with you. Any female body would do it. It's involuntary. _Dog scrambled a little and Merle pulled his leg from behind her, sitting up next to her. She looked over to the church – it was now a shell only, the roof was gone, all the windows had broken and some of the walls had caved in. She reached for the door handle but stopped as Merle's stump landed on her arm.

"Give it a minute," he said and nodded at the back. She turned and gasped. "Just went straight past us," he explained. "As if we weren't fuckin' 'ere."

She turned back to him, her brows crinkled in thought. "The smell?" she guessed.

"I reckon," he nodded. "Ya alright?" he asked hesitantly.

She shook her head but smiled at him, placing a hand on his arm. "Not really Merle, but I will be." She examined his face, while he'd cleaned the blood off the afternoon before, it was covered with grazes and bruises, his eye not quite fully open with a swollen eyebrow. "What about you?"

He snorted. "Not'ing I haven't 'ad a 'undred times before."

They'd stayed for a while making sure that there was no more geeks floating about before moving out of the car for some quick ablutions. She'd hopped into the passenger seat with the shotgun and they'd travelled back through the streets to where Simon had been directing them. The 'mall' as Simon had described it was not really worthy of the name – it was more a collection of shops that happened to share one roof. There'd been a small number of geeks in the carpark – they'd dealt with these swiftly and quietly. Merle had reversed the car up to the door and they had stepped out to try and open it. That was when they'd made their discovery - the paper that announced that the mall would reopen after the air conditioning maintenance works on the 3rd March (1) _before the end of the world_. He'd broken a panel and turned the simple lock, they'd entered into the U shaped complex, past the newsagent, bookstore, an ice creamery, a bakery, a butchers , drug store– to the back where there was a Food Depot store.

There had been no sign of any geek.

"We ain't payin' for anyt'in'," he finished, walking towards where she was looking around one of the tills.

"Just – get me a quarter would you please?" she said instead, straightening from where she was looking around the checkout.

He looked at her for a moment and then, tucking his gun back into his waistband, pulled out his knife. He lifted up the cash register and inserted his knife and with a clang the drawer popped open.

Marion crinkled her nose at him as he reached in and handed her a quarter. "Thankyou," she said, wondering what answer she would get if she asked him where he learnt that skill and whether she would want to hear it. She turned and walked away, _out of the shop_ and Merle frowned, following her. She stopped next to a machine and inserted the coin, stepping up onto the tray.

"Ah ha!" she exclaimed, turning to him with a triumphant expression on her face. "See!"

Merle walked an extra couple of steps – looking at the machine. _110pounds_. He glanced at her – her face was the most animated that he'd seen all morning, so he shrugged. "Told ya," he snorted.

Marion's mouth opened and she placed her hands on her hips. "It's my shoes – my clothes!"

"So take 'em off if ya want to prove it ta me," he suggested coarsely.

Her mouth closed suddenly and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Hmph," she said, stepping off the scales. "How do you want to do this?"

"I'll go git the bags," he said. "Ya see what ya can find."

Merle returned after several minutes, having had to dispatch another couple of geeks which had wandered a little bit too close to the car. _Have to fix that window soon_ he thought, it was a security risk. He paused at the top of the shop, looking along the top of the aisles. He saw Dog sitting in the corridor and walked down that direction.

Marion looked up as Merle arrived, offering him a shy smile. He came to stand behind her and she bit her lip, ducking her head a little as she scanned the shelf of sanitary products in front of her.

"Come on woman, don't take all day," he said after _fifteen seconds_.

"Well if the bloody multinational companies hadn't decided to use different colour packaging then I'd be able to find what I was looking for," she grouched back at him.

"It cain't be t'at 'ard," he shrugged. "T'ey all do tha same fuckin' t'ing."

"No they don't," she shook her head. "They each have their own specific uses."

"Well ya can choose whichever ones ya want," he scratched his nose. "If ya want ta git the flavoured ones, or tha ribbed ones – ya git 'em. Just remember t'at ol' Merle ain't no regular. Ya goin' ta need tha extra large."

Marion's face had been growing more and more puzzled and she had turned to him, but suddenly she turned back away from him, her face a beetroot red. "Merle! I'm not getting _condoms,_" she said in horrified tones.

He made a face. "Ya call I s'pose. I mean the doc's last round of pills cleaned me up a treat and I bet ya so squeaky clean ya'v never had anyt'ing in ya life. But I don't know that ya really want ta run tha risk of gittin' a bun in tha oven."

Marion blushed even further. "I'm not looking at condoms Merle because we're not having sex!' she said in a slightly strangled tone.

"Why tha 'ell not?" he demanded, turning towards her. "Ya got a lot of choice or ya just some type of nun?"

"I'm married," she replied firmly.

Merle's mouth opened and then shut again. _What could he say to that? _"Well how many of 'em do ya need?" he demanded instead, looking at the two small and one large box already in her hands.

"Merle," she started. "Since I believe that your only experience in this particular aisle would be the times that you ran past it with security chasing you," he grinned, "how about you go and find some food or something?"

Merle grunted and picked up a bag, dragging it along the ground as he walked down the hallway.

Without his looming presence Marion was able to concentrate and located the rest of the products that she was after and loaded them up in the bag he had left her. She slung it over her shoulder and then paused, looking at the condoms. _Why not?_ asked one voice. _You are not a nun_. _You have to be bloody kidding_ said the other. _With Merle Dixon?_ _Why not?_ countered the first voice and she thought of the muscles that she had seen at the _Palace _and on the road. At how easily he had picked her up, at the bulge she had felt pressed against her belly _It was until death do you part_. _So 12 years of love, support and companionship is forgotten for a lovely laugh and a nice arse is it?_ She sighed, _Never forgotten_ her thumb and little finger turning the rings on her finger. _Just drowned out by the Endorphins is that it? _She turned away, finding the aisle where the pantyhose and socks were, ignoring the former while grabbing some of the latter, casting her eyes over the packets of underwear. _No bras_ she sighed, pulling a couple of packets of undies and some singlets down for herself. She reached back and got another packet of undies for Merle _large because ol' Merle ain't no regular_ !

"Why are we doing this?" she asked Merle as she found him, putting bags of flour into his bag.

"Wha'?" he turned to her. "I can make bread wit' t'is."

"Really?" she blinked, her train of thought distracted by the thought of Merle baking. "No, what I mean is," she returned to her original thought process, placing her bag on the ground. "This place is fully stocked and we're filling a few bags? We have the back of a ute that we can fill up."

"We won't need tha' much," he shrugged. "It ain't t'at long a trip."

"So we're going to ration the food because we can?" she raised her brows. He placed the tin back on the shelf. "And what if we meet some more people? Simon," she said his name with barely a catch, "said that there'd been people at the servo only a week ago. What if we find them?"

"Ya want ta give 'em food?" he sneered.

"No," she said firmly. "But we might be able to trade for things we don't have." She lifted her fingers, ticking them off "Clothes, tent, fresh food."

He looked down at her, thinking about it. She raised her brow and he nodded.

"Get whatever you think other people might want," she said as they pulled the trolleys out of the rack (Merle having retrieved the appropriate coins from the register to release them from their latches). He nodded and turned down to one end of the shop and she went the other. "We're going to need something to pack this stuff in," she frowned as he returned and she looked at the two trolleys, full of tinned and packets of food _including poptarts_ she noted and gave him a sideways glance.

"T'is way," he said and she followed him to the back of the store where a set of double doors led to the storeroom. Merle lifted his hand to push the door and Dog growled. Merle looked at him and lowered his hand, stepping closer to look through the window in the door. He stepped back suddenly. "No," he said shortly.

"Maybe the storage aisle?" she suggested and he nodded. They picked up the large plastic containers on wheels and a few plastic garbage bins, returning them to their trolleys. Marion placed her hand on her hips. "Perhaps we should get the rest and then pack them?"

He nodded and extracted a couple more quarters for trolleys. He looked again at the till and emptied it of notes, shrugging when Marion tipped her head at him. "Some pricks'll t'ink it's wort' somet'in'."

Marion shrugged, remembering her empty wallet and camera, taking her trolley back down the aisles.

"Wha' ya want fuckin' diapers for?" he demanded on her return. "I t'ought we ain't havin' sex?"

She grinned at him. "But other people might be Merle." _Way to rub it in bitch_ he thought. "How many of them do you think know how to fold cloth nappies? I found a couple of packets of them too, and some pins, just in case." She looked over at their pile. "I think one more load'll do it?"

He nodded and they went their separate ways again.

"I don't bloody well think so," she said when she saw his load and the bottle in his hand.

"Why tha fuck not?" he demanded, looking at the trolley full of alcohol. He hadn't worried too much about beer, but had gone for the strong stuff, the bourbon, the whiskey, the rum. He'd picked up a few bottles of wine just to cover off the women _although Daryl used to drink this shit_.

"The world has gone to shit enough without getting shit faced," she replied firmly and reached over to grab the bottle from his hand. He lifted it out of her reach, holding it above his head and even on her tiptoes she had no chance of getting anywhere near it, although in her efforts her chest scraped up and down his and his eyes darkened.

"All the more reason to 'ave a drink," he refuted and brought his hand down as she gave up the effort. Then he looked at her trolley. "Oh no you don't," he snorted.

Marion looked at her trolley, full of chocolate – milk dairy, white chocolate, cherry ripe, mars bar, peppermint with some other lollies as well – kool fruits, marshmallows, spearmint leaves. "Why not?" she asked in confusion.

"'cause ya ain't no good ta me wit' anot'er fuckin' headache," he spat. "Wha' if a glitch of geeks come onto us when you can 'ardly walk, let alone see?"

Her lips twitched at his use of their term, but her tone was superior. "I won't get another headache," she said. "Look at that – that'll get me to Fort Benning easily."

"Yar a fuckin' junkie," he returned significantly. "Ya won't be able to pace it out."

Marion scrunched up her nose, knowing that he had a point. Her theory at home had always been to leave it at the shops, because as soon as it got home she could never leave it alone.

"It's still good for trade," she said. "I won't touch it."

He snorted.

"I won't!" she exclaimed. "I promise."

"I bet ya will," he growled at her.

"I bet I won't," she said fiercely.

"What do ya bet?" he asked.

"What do you want?" she frowned.

He answered with a widening smile as he looked her up and down.

She swallowed. "That's a big price for one chocolate."

He tipped his head, then nodded. "A dance then." She frowned at him. "Like I first saw ya." Marion's mouth formed an 'o'. "And a kiss," he added quickly.

"A kiss?" she all but squeaked.

He nodded. "As long as I want, however I want."

She looked at him intently. "_Only_ a kiss – no hands. And on the lips only." He leered at her. "But only _if _you don't touch the booze."

"Why tha fuck not?"

"I just... I just prefer you sober." She said, her eyes dropping slightly.

Then Merle remembered_ he reached in and dragged her hard against him, dropping his mouth onto hers. His kiss was hard and demanding, his hand running down over the small of her back to her butt and squeezing firmly, pulling her hips hard into his so that she could feel his body's reaction. _"Alright," he said.

Her head snapped up and she eyed him suspiciously. "Really?"

He nodded, leaning over to place the bottle back into the trolley. "Really."

"And if you do," she said and his eyes narrowed. "I get to ask 5 things – you have to answer them – truthfully _and_ fully. Until I am satisfied."

Merle ground his teeth. _Trust the tricky bitch to come up with something he didn't want to do._ He knew by the way she looked at his stump what her first question was going to be. "Three," he said.

"Four," she countered, watching his face. "Deal?" she mocked him.

"Deal." He nodded.

...

(1) My rationale for timing – Dr Jenner said it was day 194 (which is 6.5 months ) after wildfire was declared. I'm thinking that Merle only lasted two-three weeks (including some convalescence) with the others in the camp and he has been with Marion for just over a week. So let's call it just over 7months since panic ensued. By my thinking – the group are still at Herschel's farm. If anyone can give me concrete evidence of an actual date anywhere – I'm happy to change!


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

They loaded their finds into the plastic containers and ferried them out to the car, dispatching a couple of aimless geeks that were getting a little too close to the truck. Marion looked over at the tray and nodded. They had food, drinks, they had saucepans, frying pans, detergents, soaps, they had hygiene products, deodorants, baby stuff, toilet paper, they had blankets, paper and pens.

"Shall we see what else we can get from the other stores?"

"There ain't much room," he said but turned back in with her. "What were you t'inkin' of?"

"Some medicine and stuff, maybe even some books?" she was looking at the array of shops.

"Books?" he snorted.

"You'd be surprised I think Merle at how valuable a decent book would be," she smiled at him. "There might even be some with pictures in them for you."

He growled at her and she laughed. She stopped by a roller shutter. "Do you reckon you can get this open?" she asked.

Merle looked at it – it was Perspex but the real security ran along the alarm wiring. Which was useless now. He lifted up his foot and kicked his heel in at the edge. It splintered and he did it again – a third time and his foot went through. He took the few steps over to the other side and repeated the process. Then he nodded and Marion reached in one hole while he reached in the other and pulled the pins out. He then reached down and pulled up the roller. "Wha' tha fuck?" he said, stepping back to look at the name of the shop _Elegant Essentials_. "Ya kidding me ain't ya?"

"I only have two bras Merle – and they were old before I brought them with me. I need some new ones."

"Go commando," he suggested.

Marion rolled her eyes. "Only a man," she sighed. "Why don't you go over to the chemist and see what you can find?"

"Tha' wha'?" he frowned, trying to shake the image of the lacy purple bra and panty set on her body out of his head.

Marion heaved a sigh and pointed to the drug store. "There – medicines and maybe some bandages and stuff." She rolled her eyes. "Have to look for an Australian/American dictionary too," she said under her breath as she walked in.

She bypassed the front sections, knowing from past experience that none of the really pretty, lacy ones would be anywhere near appropriate for her. "What's the translation for 10DD Dog?" she asked in frustration after a little while. "Bloody sizes," she cursed, flicking through the labels – which only had the US sizing. She turned around, trying to see where Merle was. There'd been a noise as he'd opened the _chemist's_ roller door but she hadn't heard anything else. She shrugged, turning her back to the front of the shop and pulled off her shirt and unlatching her bra. She peered at the label, but it was so old that she couldn't see any writing and she swore under her breath. She pulled one of the new ones off the rack and disentangled it from the coathanger, wrapping it around her and doing up the catch before flipping it over and putting her arms through. She looked down at herself and adjusted the straps a little, then looking around. She took a step to the left and turned sideways so she could see the fit in the mirror. She grimaced and stepped back to the rack, unlatching the catch with practiced ease.

Merle swallowed, his mouth closing as her reflection disappeared from the mirror. _She'd lost weight_ he thought, remembering her body moving up and down to the music. Her ribs were now showing where they hadn't been before, but she still had a great rack and it was now plastered on the back of his eyelids. "Fuck" he groaned _just what he needed _and turned back into the drug store. There was a whole world of trouble waiting for him if he crossed the hall to that shop, so he put the tablets back on the bench _he could ask her later_ and moved back into the dispensary. His knowledge and past history with drugs came in handy and he sorted efficiently through the pills and creams on the shelves. He collected anything that offered pain relief and all antibiotics, but ignored heart and other specialist medication. He picked up the basket and felt his back twinge. He moved out of the dispensary to where the bandages and stuff were kept and placed down his basket. He shrugged off his vest and pulled at his singlet shirt, grimacing as it stuck for a bit, a sharp pain coming as the scab came off with the shirt. He turned sideways to examine it in the mirror.

It wasn't overly deep, but it was long, stretching from this shoulder all the way to the top of his buttock. It was an angry red and he grimaced – it needed something on it otherwise he was likely to get an infection. He crouched down at the shelf, looking for some antiseptic cream.

"Merle Dixon!" her voice exclaimed and he jumped, almost unbalancing. "What the hell happened to you?" she demanded, striding towards him.

He pulled his gaze away from her bust _did it really look perkier or was that his imagination_ to shrug at her. "I got a glancing blow."

"And you didn't think to tell me?" she roused at him.

"You were a bit ... occupied," he said shortly.

Marion flicked him a glance. "That's no excuse," she muttered, placing a plastic bag on the ground as she came up behind him to examine the wound. "You could get an infection."

"I'll be right," he said, standing to get away from her hands as much as impatience over the fussing.

"No you won't," she said firmly, stepping around him and snatching his shirt from his hand. She hovered in front of the shelf for a few moments before she picked up a tube. "Sit," she said and pointed at a chair.

Merle sighed and did what she told him to, sitting backwards on the chair so that his back was towards her. He jumped slightly as something cold touched him, turning his head to see her throwing away the one baby wipe and pulling out another. He braced himself for the next cold cloth and stayed silent as she cleaned off his back.

Marion bit her lip as she worked on him. While the long red wound was the most obvious, and there were several scrapes and bruises from his fight with Simon - as she cleaned off the dirt and grime that had accumulated since he'd last had a decent bathe, she was seeing more and more old scars. She'd seen them before, but up close they were more horrific. Most were straight silver lines that criss-crossed his lower back, licking up towards his shoulders but not high enough that they'd be visible through the singlet tops and vest that he seemed to be so keen on wearing. There were other marks too, small round marks that looked suspiciously like cigarette burns, jagged marks which could have been knife slices or stabs. She wondered if he would answer if she asked, but his shoulders were stiff and she could feel his muscles tensing underneath her hands, so she tended the new wound without saying anything.

Merle stood at her quiet pronouncement of "finished", reaching for his shirt.

She shook her head, "I don't think that's a good idea – it's pretty filthy. You've got some more shirts in your bag." She swallowed as he reached over her to where she'd laid his vest, his chest brushing against her shoulder. She moved to the side and went back to the shelves, loading up the basket with the creams and bandages. She turned to find him directly behind her, the vest hanging open and showing the definition of his pecs and slight peppering of hair. He reached forward and took the basket out of her hand, freezing as her hands came up... and tied the vest together a little.

"'I'll just duck into the bookstore," she said quietly and he nodded, stepping to the side so that she could lead the way out. He opened up the roller door for her but left her to it and moved to the newsagent, grabbing a packet of crisps and chewing on them as he stood in front of the magazines. He reached forward.

"Don't even think about ..." she started and then stopped as he picked up a motorcycle magazine. "oh," she offered him a small smile. "Well I'm done – you want anything else?"

He shook his head and she turned, the two bags on her shoulders bulging with books. He took a quick glance behind him and picked up the Playboy magazine, before turning to follow her.

He'd been driving for only a few minutes before he pulled over. Marion looked up from feeding Dog one of the doggy treats she had grabbed briefly before turning to Merle with a slight frown. He nodded to the side and she turned to look, seeing the F350 parked in the car yard. "Need a window," he said briefly.

"You want to change cars or just scrap it?" she asked.

He gave it a brief moment of thought. It would take some time to get the panel of the door off, both vehicles, and then to reattach the window pane. But he had grabbed the set of screwdrivers from the shop for specifically this reason, there were a lot of boxes in the back and some of them were too heavy to move – they'd have to be partially unpacked before moving and then repacked. "Keep t'is one," he decided. "I'll take tha window out."

She nodded and he changed gears, reversing to put the two cars in easy proximity to work.

"You need any help?" she asked as he set to work.

He looked up and she nodded over to the BackCountry (1) store. "I got t'is – watch ya self," he said.

She smiled at him and grabbing the crossbow and sword, with Dog bouncing at her feet. She tried the door and found it locked, she peered into the window, moving along its frontage to try and see every part of the shop. Nothing moved inside and she upended the sword, swinging it and shattering the front door. She looked over to where Merle had stood suddenly and gave him a reassuring wave before using the blade of the sword to clear the glass shards away from the edge. "Watch yourself," she echoed to Dog and stepped through the door.

Dog bounced over the threshold, delicately weaving his way through the glass into the racks of clothes. He followed Marion as she bypassed the fluorescent ski gear and headed back to the camouflage gear. She grabbed a jacket for herself and another one for Merle. She then moved to the shelves along the side of the shop, grabbing some gloves for herself, a pair that was far too big for her that she thought should fit Merle and a scarf for herself (being pretty sure that Merle wouldn't want anything around his neck). She found a shelf full of skivvies and pulled out one to hold it against her, discarding that size and going up one size to drag three more out. She added these to the rather bulky pile behind her and moved along the shelves to where there was a pile of jeans. She pulled one set around her waist and looked at the legs, then looked for the next size up. There was none, the next pile being another size larger again. She hesitated _it's not a fashion contest Marion – Merle won't care whether your arse looks fat in them_. Her lips twitched as she imagined what he might say if that question was ever posed to him but she bent to undo the laces on her boots – uncomfortable jeans were no good to travel in. She kicked her boots off and dragged off her pants, threading one leg and then the other through the jeans and jumping to pull them up. They sat nicely and she squatted, testing their flexibility. "These'll do Dog," she said and pulled them down again, straightening out the legs and folding them over her arms. She reached up for another couple of pairs and held them as she looked along the shelves, wondering what size Merle might be.

She gasped suddenly as she was suddenly caught against a hard length, a hand covering her mouth. She tensed ready to fight but then the shape behind her and the absence of a hand on her waist resolved into an identity and she relaxed.

"It's me," he said unnecessarily and when she nodded he released her mouth. _Woman can't keep fuckin' clothes on_ he thought, taking in her naked legs, her ass only just covered. "We got company."

Her mouth froze on the question and she dropped the jeans, picking up her pants and threading her legs in, using him as a, somewhat startled, balancing post as she pulled them up over her feet. She pushed her feet into the boots, quickly tying the laces and picked up the crossbow, turning to him. "How many?"

"Not geeks," he shook his head. "Men."

She relaxed. "Where'd they go?" She reached down to pick up the pile of jeans before stepping to where Merle was already collecting some of the other pile.

"Don't know – don't care," he responded.

Marion frowned, stopping to look up at him briefly before bending over again. "We're not going to try and talk to them?"

Merle shook his head. "T'ey look too much like the type I used to 'ang out wit'."

She straightened again from the pile with a grin, which faded as she realised that he was serious. "Oh." She bent down again to pile the rest of the clothes into her arms and followed him out to the car. He opened the back door and tossed his armful in, hers followed and she had barely clicked her seatbelt in before he was turning the wheel – being careful not to spin the wheels and make too much noise but moving quickly.

Dog looked in discontent at the new glass in the window and plopped down on Marion's lap with a sigh.

They stopped once they were out of town to examine the map. The detour had taken them off their designated route and Merle traced another path with his finger, his right arm over the top of Marion's seat (despite Dog's protests) and his left hand stretched over as far as it could. "If we folla t'at road, it'll take us to Fort Benning in under a fortnight."

"The mountain roads won't be any trouble?" she asked as she placed the map back into the glove box and turned in her seat to rummage through the back.

"Not t'is early in tha season," he shook his head. He found a shirt presented to him and took it with a grunt. He opened the door to give him enough room to shrug out of his vest and into the shirt. Marion came out as well, glancing at the four tyres that he had wedged around their other supplies. She returned to her seat when she saw him move back in, finishing his sentence. "We git stuck for any length of time though and it could be a different story.'

"Is there any reason why we would be?" she asked, pulling over her belt.

"None at all," he said grimly as he started the car again and she grimaced. Nothing could be planned anymore – not with the dead walking.

They feasted that night – while the fresh food section had never been stocked for the opening day, the root vegetables had been left in place during the renovations and Marion had grabbed handfuls of potatoes, onions and sweet potatoes as well as a couple of pumpkins. The sword had opened up the pumpkins with devastating efficiency and she'd placed them with a handful of oil into one of the saucepans. The potatoes she'd peeled and then chopped, putting them in another saucepan after heating oil to almost boiling and they bubbled away in a rough approximation of chips. A third saucepan sat at the edge of the fire with bubbling water – Merle had looks askance at the metal pot that she'd sat over it, his face not clearing much as she'd emptied a couple of tins of vegetables into it.

"I know they don't really need much," she'd shrugged, "but they're cold and the steamer will keep more of the nutrients in than boiling them in their tins."

Merle had made a foray into the farmland that they had driven through and managed to kill a sheep and a portion of this was simmering away in the fourth pot on the fire – the rest had been painstakingly cut up (with one hand by Merle and through inexperience on Marion's part) and was set up on a tepee downwind of the fire.

Dog took the shank bone over to the edge of their little 'camp' which was a children's playground area off the road. There was a water tank next to the toilets, which Marion had looked into only briefly before retreating in disgust, and they had left their own supplies alone with it as an available resource. A couple of geeks had wandered into the camp just before dusk and they had been dealt with by cross bow – the third and fourth had found Merle out of camp and he'd had to use his knives. The fifth and sixth had prompted them to go out on a wider perimeter – the search finding the collection of cars stalled on a side road and they'd been there for long enough that Marion had almost run back to the fire to turn the meat before it burnt.

Marion set up the blankets close to the car just in case – but Dog had been quiet for a while now and Merle had reported on his last perimeter search that everything was clear. He was on another now and she reached into her shirt to unlatch the clasp, breathing a little sigh as the pressure was released. She pulled the bra out from through a sleeve and tucked it underneath the lower blanket. She'd thought of pyjamas when in the shops, but they really hadn't seemed all that practical, so she was stuck with sleeping in her clothes. She slid inside the blankets, her crossbow within hand's reach next to the gun that Merle had pressed upon her during the earlier hunt, the sword propped up against the wheel of the car.

She heard Dog give a perfunctory growl – more out of habit than with any real venom – which was her only warning of Merle's return. "Clear" he said gruffly, eyeing her boots next to the bed before toeing his off and pulling the laces loose on his vest. He laid his gun on the ground next to him and pulled the Bowie's sheaf off, reaching down and flicking back the blankets to crawl in next to her.

"Your back alright?" she asked quietly.

"Is fine," he grunted, looking up at the stars. "Is goin' ta be cold t'night."

"We're well prepared," she said contentedly, snuggling on her belly, her side pressed up along his length, Dog curled up in the curve of her waist. "Night Merle."

"Night sugar," he muttered and closed his eyes.

Marion started awake suddenly and for a moment froze. Dog sniffed next to her and she looked down, wondering what had awoken her. Dog's ears twitched and another snore ripped through the night. Marion started, turning her head to see Merle flat on his back, his left arm crossed over him so his fingers touched the gun, his right stump bent up behind his head. He took another earth shattering breath and she bit back a giggle. "Merle," she whispered, "Merle!" She leant her shoulder over to him and nudged his side. He snored and she winced. "Merle!" she said and freed her hand to give him a shove in his belly. He snored. _Bloody hell_ she thought. She didn't want to wake him properly – he was obviously well and truly asleep and she wasn't sure how easily he'd go back to sleep. But she sure wouldn't be getting any sleep with this racket and it wasn't outside the impossible that he would attract some geeks. She scrunched her nose in thought and then bit her lip. She rolled over onto her side and pushed her backside into the side of his hip, bringing her back up against him.

Merle rolled, his left hand tucking under his head, his right stump wrapping around her chest and firmly pushing its way in between her breasts, his leg riding up in between hers. She froze, but the breaths in her ear were slow, deep and steady. "You better be asleep Merle," she whispered. There was no response, just continued deep – and blessedly quiet – breathing and she sighed, wriggling a little to get her head away from his elbow and closed her eyes.

...

(1) Very basic Google search offered this name – no preference being offered! Nor do I have any real idea of what they stock. For those (limited) Aussie/Kiwi readers I was going to say a Kathmandu store but I think they're limited to our shores.

By the way – I am lost! Just run with the geography without trying the figure where the hell they are! (or if you do, please let me know)


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Merle awoke to the sound of a gasp. He opened his eyes and stared for a moment, trying to bring his awareness to focus. He'd woken about dawn when she'd moved against him – "don't need ta 'unt" he'd murmured in protest and pulled her back against him. Her length was warm against him, his knee was between her legs and his arm was sandwiched between her breasts. His body had an immediate awareness to the sensations and he'd felt her stiffen in response. He'd grimaced, as she patted his arm "I need to get up Merle."

"Git ova it woman," he'd growled. "It's still dark and it's cold."

"Yes," she'd agreed. "And I am going to wee myself if you don't let me up."

He'd released her immediately of course – she'd tucked the blankets back in around him and he'd drifted off to sleep again. Another gasp sounded and he became wide awake and sat up – the fire had been kicked into life and there was a pot of water set against its edge. She'd found some of eggs that he'd packed and these were sitting out on a rock, plates and some cutlery next to them. _But where was she?_

He opened his mouth to yell when he heard another gasp and a slight groan. He turned to the side _wha' tha fuck?_

Marion lifted the crossbow again, suppressing a moan as her muscles protested, and lowered it. _Three more_ she thought, and lifted the crossbow again, up from her thighs using her upper arms, and then bending it to touch her forehead with her forearms, then back down again. _Two more_ she promised herself – she wanted to build muscle, not work them to total fatigue. A movement caught her eye and she whirled, the crossbow snapping up to her shoulder.

"Wha' tha fuck are ya doin' woman?" he demanded, looking her up and down. She was still in the clothes from the previous night – although the angle of her bust told him that she had reclaimed her bra – she was slightly sweaty, holding the crossbow in both hands. He was almost impressed though by how quick she'd snapped it ready to fire.

"Exercising," she replied, letting the crossbow back down. "I've been sitting in the car half a week – I needed to do something. And you said I needed to build up my muscles." She walked past him "Would you like eggs for breakfast or are you doing the whole poptart thing again?"

They ate breakfast without any fuss – Marion used the water that she'd been boiling on the fire to wash the dishes and had then taken the remainder away. She'd returned with a freshly scrubbed face and he'd gone looking in the direction she'd pointed to him. She'd made him remove his new shirt again to have a look at the wound along his back and then with a "tch tch" she proceeded to wash it more thoroughly and reapply the antiseptic cream and the bandage. She'd then collected his dirty clothes and piled them into a plastic bag with hers and thrown them into the car.

Marion leant her head back as they travelled – they left the last of the scattered houses behind as they crossed into land that was solely for farming. Then the farmland started to give way to foothills and the trees built up again and the road started to twist. Marion wound down the window and took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air, untainted by any pollution, tasting the sweetness of the trees in the air, smelling the advance of winter. Merle wasn't flying along, but he was going at a decent pace and the scenery flash past them. _Two weeks_ she thought, _two weeks and maybe I can get home._ Surely there were people at home alive – just like there'd been people left alive here. And surely, surely some of them would be her family, her friends.

Merle cast her a glance as she started to hum. The road was clear and he was enjoying the response of the Ford – it wasn't the same as the bike, not nearly as much freedom or exhilaration, but despite the load the car eased up the incline, hugging the corners smoothly. He'd filled up the car before they'd started that morning, they had enough fuel for another couple of days – there was a few little hamlets on the way that they'd mapped out, small enough not to have had a significant geek population but large enough that they should be able to find fuel. They shouldn't really need too many supplies as long as everything went smoothly. He wondered if Daryl was already there, whether he had made it or whether something had gone wrong. _Only a Dixon could kill a Dixon_.

"Supercalifragilisticexpialid ocious (1), even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious, if you say it loud enough you'll always sound precocious, supercalifragilisticexpialid ocious," Marion sang and he gave her another look. She relapsed back into humming again, stroking Dog as she glanced out the window. She glanced over to him and met his eyes, "But better use if carefully or it could change your life," she dropped her voice to a very bad false baritone "One night I said it to my girl and now me girl's me wife." She laughed and launched into a rousing song. "Oooh! Super..."

He will say later that it was because they were rounding a corner that it happened, not because he was watching her.

The explosion was sharp and very loud through Marion's open window and she flinched away in reflex, Dog yelping. Merle swore as all the control he had of the car was lost and it started to drift into the corner. He lifted off the gas pedal and dragged on the wheel ""ang on!" he yelled and saw through the edge of his eye Marion grab ahold of Dog and curl over the top of him. The car began to tip and he felt himself elevate above her – he dragged the wheel again and the car responded sluggishly – it levelled but then the tip began the other way. He dragged on the wheel again, the other way – he could hear the tyres squealing through the open window.

The crash when it finally came was much less than it could have been but was not gentle. The sound of compressing metal screeched through the air, the crack of the smaller trees that were crushed under the vehicle and the snap of the larger tree that finally halted them. There was a 'pop' as Merle's airbag deployed, followed by a grunt as Merle hit it and a yelp from Dog as he was almost squashed by Marion.

They sat in silence for several moments.

"You ok woman?" he groaned finally, his head throbbing from the impact. _Probably got a fuckin' broken nose_ he thought and brought his hand to his face. Everything felt fine. "Woman?" he said again.

"Um – I'm fine Merle," she said hesitantly as Dog growled. "But um..."

Before he could turn his door was yanked open, his arm was grabbed and he was reefed from the car.

Marion looked into barrel of the gun and then along it to the man who was holding it, hearing Merle come up off the ground in a hurry and launch at the three men on his side. She reached for the rifle perched between the front seats.

"Mam, I'm going to ask you not to do that" said the man holding the gun on her in a voice that came directly from his ankles. He was a tall man, built wide across the chest and shoulders. _He looks like a front row forward_ she thought _except without the cauliflower ears_. He was quite a handsome man, his hair cropped neatly around his head, almost but not quite military style. His long sleeve flannel was tucked into a set of jeans and it, as well as he, looked like it had been freshly laundered with no sign of hard living. His hands too looked very clean, smooth almost with manicured nails. But he held the gun with easy competence _like Merle except with two hands_.

She froze, her left hand stretched out, looking into his tea coloured eyes, surreptitiously sliding the handgun into her waistband. There was a yell behind her and she flinched, about to turn her head when her door clicked open. "Please mam?" he asked, still holding the gun on her but now opening the door.

Marion hesitated, but holding her fingers out and moving slowly, unclicked her seat belt. She swung her legs over and Dog leapt out, snarling and headed for the man's ankles.

"Sit," he ordered and Dog skidded to a halt. He looked up and sat. Marion paused, narrowing her eyes at the man before continuing her way to the ground. He released one hand from the gun and extended it to her, gently taking hold of her elbow and bringing her away from the car so that he could shut the door. "Thankyou mam," he nodded, seemingly ignoring the way she snatched her arm away from his fingers, his eyes flicking over her shoulder to where she could still hear the sound of a struggle. The grunts, gasps and thumps were suddenly interrupted by a scrape of steel and he looked down at her. "Mam – I'm going need your assistance – I cannot let him cut one of my men." He paused, meeting her eyes. "We mean you no harm."

She looked up at him carefully, aware that Dog was still sitting in perfect obedience at her feet. _She'd trusted Simon – look what happened there_. But there was something different about this man – he was solid, he was calm – _he was at peace._ She nodded.

Merle threw the man off him _what was the bitch doing?_ He couldn't see anything that was happening behind him, he couldn't take his eyes off the three men that were trying to take him down. His brawling skills were coming in handy – none of these _pricks_ had any training, _not like Simon_, and he was giving all of them as good as they were giving him. He smirked as he felt a set of ribs give under his fist and he twisted to release his right arm out of the grip of another. He swung it back and it crashed into the face of one of them – a blow came at him from the side, he ducked and got only a glancing blow which never the less made his head ring after the airbag impact. _Time to stop fuckin' around_ he decided – he needed to find out what had happened to her. He grabbed for his blade, it fit as easily into his left hand as it did the right and he slashed – his target only just avoiding the blow. Then they stepped back.

"Merle," she said quietly and stepped into the group of men.

"Git tha fuck outta here woman," he yelled, reaching forward to grab her shoulder.

She stepped inside the blade, right up to him and reached for his arm. "Merle" she said firmly and he looked at her. "It's alright Merle," she pushed up against him.

It took a few moments for her words to sink in, a couple more for her actions. He looked over her shoulder at the four men, the largest one holding a gun loosely at his side.

"Ya sure?" he muttered, casting her a glance.

She shrugged, giving him a rueful smile. "As I can be."

He lowered the knife and two of the men rushed in, grabbing it off him and reefing his arms behind him. He heard the tinkle of metal and tensed – there was a snap as a cuff snapped around his left wrist, he smirked as his right wrist was caught.

"Ah – Samson?" said a hesitant voice behind him.

The big man moved forward, a slight look of shock _impressed you prick_ passing over his face. His eyes met Merle's, considering, before dropping down to Marion who had turned but who was still close to Merle, the toes of his left foot between her heels. "My apologies mam," he said slowly in his deep voice.

Marion sighed and held her right wrist up.

Merle felt the man's eyes on him again, saw him considering again. He gritted his teeth as he reached forward and snapped the pair of the cuffs around Marion's wrist _her left wrist_.

"Just to be safe," said Samson down to Marion as she turned an outraged face to him. "Is there anything you'd like to get out of the car for the night? We can come back in the morning for the er... " his gaze lingered on the 50cal which Merle had lodged into one of the spare tyres and had therefore been held in the vehicle despite the tipping. "other items," he finished dryly.

"Wha' sortta party ya got planned ya prick?" demanded Merle harshly.

"Nothing that should distress you, I assure you sir."

_Sir?!_ Merle stared at him.

Marion's lips twitched, she couldn't see his reaction but she would hazard a guess that it had been a long time _if ever perhaps? _since Merle had ever been given that honorific. Despite the fact that Samson had cuffed her to Merle she still felt no fear, especially as he looked down at her and added. "Nothing to distress you either mam."

Marion moved around the front of Merle – he swung around and planted himself at the edge of the car, swinging his arm up and over the frame as she opened the back door and reached into the back with her right hand.

"Mam," said Samson and she looked up to see him holding a gun to Merle's head. She nodded once and reached past the bag of guns to where her purple bag sat. She pushed that out behind her and one of the men picked it up, opening it and giving it a rifle through. Merle growled and Samson flicked his gaze up – the bag was rezipped.

Marion reached over a bit further to where new bag that she had designated Merle's clothing had landed and saw the backpack. She put her hand on it and turned slightly, meeting Merle's gaze. It was strong and direct _No_ and she slid it back towards her along the floor, grabbing the plastic bag of dirty clothes and upending it over the backpack. She reached back and grabbed his bag, pulling herself back out with a bit of effort and lifting her arm up to get it back over the window. One of the men moved forward, tossing through the jackets and blankets on the seat, ignoring the pile of dirty clothes, and grabbed out the bag of guns and the crossbow. Samson motioned with his head and said a quick word – one of the other men came back around with her sword.

"This way please," invited Samson _as if he was their waiter at a fancy restaurant_ thought Merle surlily.

It took a couple of attempts until they found a way to walk together – she fit under his shoulder with his arm wrapped around her next, her arm bent so that her hand was up against her collarbone. They walked like that for a while, the men spread out and seemingly relaxed except for Samson, who maintained an alertness as he walked behind them.

Dog bounced around them, dashing in and out of the trees, sparking a couple of chuckles from the other men.

"I don't like t'is," Merle breathed in her ear. "We need ta git back ta tha car."

"And how do you propose we drive it?" she whispered with asperity. "It's got four flat tyres and we're shackled together. You want me sitting on your lap or are you planning to cut your other hand off?" He flinched, but realised she is just referring to the fact that he had only one hand, not knowledge of what had happened to other one. "or perhaps you are planning to make us a matching set?" she added with heavy irony.

"Can ya git out of it?" he asked.

He felt her hand wiggle as she tested the tightness of the fit. "Maybe," she admitted. "But it'll take time and it won't be clean."

He nodded and moved his arm slightly so that his hand covered hers, using his little finger and thumb to hold the cuff still while she wriggled her wrist, suppressing the wince as the skin protested.

The camp seemed to materialise out of the nothing and she pulled harder at the cuff, trying to get it past the top knuckle of her thumb. One moment they were threading through the trees, the next the trees just stopped and they crossed a clearing – recent by the look of the tree stumps. Two men nodded at them as they walked through the open gate, looking enquiringly at Marion and Merle as they passed, but not in a way that worried her. She heard the gate being dragged shut behind them as they were led in between some tents towards a small building. The men stopped on the edge of the door, and Dog proceeded an awkward Marion up the couple of steps, Merle conscious of Samson immediately behind them

The man sitting at a chair looking at some paperwork looked up at their entrance, his slight frown changing to a wide smile as he took them in and stood up.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," swore Merle under his breath.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

(1) This word was NOT a spelling error. I don't know whether the program just threw its hands up in the air or previously, there was a Poppins fan working in the dictionary section of a computer programming office – I'm hoping for the latter! Just a random fact.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

_He might not be the Lord Jesus_ thought Marion with a slight grin _but he had the same stylist._

The man was as tall as Samson, but built on leaner lines – most of which were hidden by the long white robe that was only loosely corded around his waist. His hair was a soft brown and fell to his shoulders with a slight curl, his half beard the same colour. She looked down _yep – there's the sandals_.

"Welcome, welcome," he was saying as he walked towards where they'd both stopped rather abruptly. "welcome my friends – I am Elijah." His eyes took in their stance and focussed on the cuff that he could see on Merle's wrist and he turned frowning eyes to Samson as he stepped around them, his tone slightly reproachful. "Samson – please – was that really necessary?"

Samson had holstered his weapon and now placed their weapons on the floor – to Merle's right at a significant distance away. He straightened; a slight note of humour in his voice. "Aaron, Amos and Daniel thought so, this gentlemen wasn't overly enthusiastic about joining us."

_Oh fuck – not another brainy fucker_ thought Merle with an inner groan even as Marion protested.

"We just crashed our car! Then you dragged him out and started belting him up."

Elijah's eyes rolled to Samson who shrugged. "The spikes were more effective than we had considered – we almost lost them – except for this gentleman's skill at the wheel. And to be fair – I think he did start throwing punches first."

"That is no excuse for throwing them back," reproved Elijah mildly. "We will discontinue the spikes then – go back to the road block." Samson nodded. "Now please Samson?"

Samson hesitated, looking at Merle whose teeth were gritted _spikes! No wonder he crashed_, before reaching into his pocket for the key to unlock them. Merle snatched his hand away even as Samson held Marion's wrist for a short moment, looking at the raw mark that she worked around her wrist and the bottom of her hand. She looked back at him steadily and his eyes dropped as he released her hand, stepping back.

"Why have you brought us here?" Marion asked, feeling Merle close behind her still, his hand now hovering just above the weapon inside her shirt. She dropped her hand, reaching out to grab one of his fingers between her own, not seeing Samson's eyes follow the movement as she looked at Elijah.

"For your own protection," said Elijah with a smile. "It's very dangerous out there."

"Yes – there's some crazy people putting tyres spikes on the road," she said coldly.

"A mistake," admitted Elijah. "We have learned however that we must protect what we have here, there are some _unsavoury _characters around."

_Was it his imagination or did the prick just look at him_ wondered Merle.

Elijah's eyes had moved on though and he indicated a set of chairs. "Please," he said. "Sit – have something to eat, something to drink." He clapped his hands and a door at the rear of the building opened. A woman, dressed in a long plain dress stepped out carrying a tray with glasses and a couple of jugs and what looked to be cookies. She set it down on a table near the chairs, flicking her eyes up and meeting Marion's, giving her a shy smile. Her eyes flicked at Merle with a little more uncertainty and flicked away hurriedly as he glared at her. "Thankyou Bethany," said Elijah softly and she nodded at him. "Please," he said again to Marion and Merle.

Merle eyed off Samson. He held no gun, Merle wasn't sure whether it had been placed in his belt or whether he just didn't have it anymore, but there was something about him, how he held himself. There was some type of assurance. Merle looked back up and found intense hazel eyes looking back at him calmly with a slight suggestion of amusement. _He was ready_ realised Merle, and by his size it might be a close run thing. He relaxed slightly, nudging his hand forward into Marion's hip and she stepped forward, releasing his hand as she took one of the seats. Merle didn't sit down, but rather rested against the arm of one of the chairs, noting that Samson positioned himself so that he could move between him and Elijah. _The guard dog_ sneered Merle, but guard dogs were there for a reason, so he abandoned his plan to grab the _long haired git _and eased down.

Marion had glanced at him only briefly before turning back to Elijah, accepting the glass of juice that he offered her almost guiltily. She closed her eyes briefly as the fresh tartness hit her tastebuds before looking at the man casually sitting before her.

"So where were you headed Mrs...?" his eyes widening slightly as Dog jumped up onto her lap and made himself comfortable.

Marion considered him for a moment as her hand buried itself in Dog's hair out of habit, his hazel eyes were gentle on her. "Marion," she supplied after a moment. His eyes flicked over to Merle and she continued, "And this is Merle. We were headed to Fort Benning.

"Fort Benning," he repeated in a musing tone, looking up to Samson.

"It's gone," Samson said.

"What?" gasped Marion.

"Wha' do ya mean 'gone'?" snapped Merle.

"Over-run," replied the large man without any lift to his tone. "There's not a living soul left there now."

"How?" breathed Marion.

"How tha fuck do ya know?" demanded Merle.

"I was stationed there," replied Samson. _Explains a bit_ thought Merle. "I was out with my patrol, we were heading into Columbus to evacuate a hospital when the call came for help. We never made it," he said flatly. "There was too many of them. We radioed in, told them we wouldn't be coming. We heard the orders – saw and heard the explosion."

"They blew themselves up?" whispered Marion.

"Death seemed a pretty good plan B at the time," shrugged Samson.

It didn't even cross her mind not to believe him, there was too much sincerity in his voice, too much grief, although it was well controlled.

"Were you headed there to find family?" asked Elijah.

"Maybe," nodded Marion. "We weren't sure that they'd be there – but it was the best plan we could come up with at the time."

"I am sorry," said Elijah and Marion had no difficulty in believing him either. "But you are welcome to stay with us as long as you like – at least until we are able to help you fix the car," he added hastily and Marion didn't need to look up to know Merle was glaring at him. "Perhaps you'd like a tour?"

Samson cleared his throat. "I am going to have to take that now mam. There are no weapons in camp."

Marion turned to him, her eyes wide. He stared down at her evenly, holding out his hand.

_Fuck_ thought Merle as she ruefully reached under her shirt and passed the gun over to Samson, flashing him a glace that said _well what else can I do bright spark?_

"We have almost thirty people here – we lost some during the sickness but we have had some new arrivals over the last couple of months" Elijah led the way and Marion looked around as he talked, Merle stalking at her shoulder, Samson bringing up the rear. The small building seemed to sit in the middle of the camp – there was one large marquee to the left of the door about 50metres away, another marquee to the right by about the same distance. There was an open area immediately out the door – she could see the gates that they came in, manned by two men with military grade rifles _probably came with Samson _she thought. "We have our own garden," Elijah continued, leading them to the left and he pointed to the tilled rows where the remains of some plants could be seen, two women bending over them and collecting with practiced ease into a basket on their hip. Two men were situated in adjacent beds, using shovels and forks to turn the soil, a large pile of hay to the side as if ready to be placed. "and orchard," he pointed at the grove of trees behind the garden. They were neatly trimmed along the branches as well as the crown of the tree, some laden with the beginning of winter produce. "Plus we have a little farm," he pointed further and Marion realised the dots in the grass on the other side of a large pond were cattle, sheep, goats _and horses_. "We pretty much have all that we need here, although there has been some experimentation with the use of the local herbs," he said with a grin towards Samson. Marion turned to see an answering grin on the larger man's face and something grabbed at her, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "Come, I will introduce to you some people."

A tall, stately woman was the first that he led them to. She too wore a long dress, its sleeves just to below her elbows, the neck a demure curve. It seemed to be homespun, it was slightly coarse with no colour. She smiled warmly as Elijah walked up to her, offering a similar smile to Samson before turning back respectfully to Elijah. "This is Deborah," he said, taking her hand in his and smiling down at her before turning to Marion and Merle. "She is the sister of my late wife – and a great support to me in the running of the camp."

"I am pleased to meet you," she said in a honey toned voice, her brown eyes meeting Marion's directly.

"This is Marion and her husband Merle," said Elijah.

"Fuck's sake," groaned Merle and Marion's mouth twitched.

"Marion," she nodded and extended her hand. After a hesitation Deborah reached to grip it – it was clear that she wasn't used to this form of greeting, her grip was soft and undefined. "And Merle isn't my husband," she added.

Elijah looked at her, then down at her hand. "Your rings..."

"I _was _married," she nodded. "He passed."

"Oh I am so sorry my dear," said Deborah and Marion found herself enclosed in a hug, which had a slight smell of lavender. She was released before she could feel awkward and she offered a smile in response.

"I apologise for my assumption," said Elijah. _Hey!_ thought Merle with some disgruntlement, then his eyes narrowed as he took in a strange look between the two men.

The introductions continued – Delilah, Abraham, Joanna, Hazael, Barnabas, Naomi, Bathsheba _for fuck's sake_, Josephine, Chloe, Adam, Elizabeth, Miriam, Hannah, Judith, Aaron, Amos, Mary, Bethany, Goliath, Benjamin, Emmanuel, Daniel, Gideon, Cain, Jacob, Caleb, David, Gabriel _as in the angel. _Merle's head was spinning by the end of it and even Marion was looking slightly dazed.

Elijah laughed. "Never mind – they'll all remember you and will remind you of their names as occasion requires! Come – it is almost dinner time."

The small building had been transformed into a dining room in their absence– one single large table situated in the middle with chairs lining either side. Men, dressed in plain trousers and shirts, some in almost smocks over the top of loose pants were helping the women, almost universally in the long dresses, place large plates overflowing with food on the table. Additional people began to file in, taking places that seemed to be established by long routine. Seats were pulled out for the women, several in late stages of pregnancy, by the men before they sat down next to them.

"Please," invited Elijah and he indicated a pair of seats at one end of the table that had been left vacant.

Marion glanced to Merle and he shrugged slightly – she walked forward to take her seat, her lips twitching as she pulled her own chair out and sat down, Merle easing in beside her. Elijah moved to a chair on the opposite side of the table, smiling as he held the chair out for Deborah, Samson behind him and sitting on her other side, directly opposite Merle. Merle's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Dog pushed in between Marion's legs, propping up on his hind feet to extend his twitching nose to just beneath the tablecloth. He received a reproof for his manners and popped down. "Joanna," said the pretty young girl next to Marion as she lifted the tablecloth, offering her hand to Dog in request. Dog stood up again, half closing his eyes as the girl's fingers found the exact spot behind his ear. She giggled "He's cute – what's his name?"

The plates were passed along each side of the table, Marion held the plate for Merle to choose his portion and then he took it off her so she could do the same before passing it across the table to Samson. He let Marion's conversation with the blond haired kid next to her wash over him, looking carefully up and down the table. There was a group of men at the far end of the table, a group of women up on the other side of Elijah but in the middle of the table they sat in pairs – 9 pairs in total. Some obviously couples, the way in which there were whispered exchanges and soft hands around shoulders and on hands. Others, while they sat next to each other didn't seem to be very couplish – and given that two of these included heavily pregnant women, he was intrigued.

Merle shrugged internally and reached for his fork, stabbing some of the roast turkey _bit early for turkey_ he thought before a soft clearing of the throat caught his attention and he looked up into the hazel eyes of Elijah.

"We'll say grace first Merle," he said without any reproof.

Merle blinked, but no-one else had lifted their knives or forks and in fact a lot had their hands clasped in front of them. He placed his fork back on his plate, casting a glance at Marion – but she was determinedly _not_ looking at him.

"Lord," began Elijah. "We thankyou for this bounty that you have provided; the peace and safety that we have here at Babylon. We ask that you continue to provide for us and lead us along the path to your everlasting glory. We pray for Hazel, Miriam, Bathsheba, Elizabeth, Hannah and Josephine as their time approaches. Please may their babies be gifted with the strength of the Holy Spirit. We pray too for Bethany and Abraham – may their union be blessed with the wonder of new life." He paused. "We thank you for the hand of protection you held over Marion and Merle and ask that you continue to watch over them. Amen."

"Amen," murmured Marion, even as she felt Merle twitching _a first for him_ she thought fighting the upward tilt of her lips.

"Bray it up bitch," he muttered and she lost her fight, giggling.

"How long have you and Merle been married?" asked Joanna next to her.

Marion laughed again. "We're not married Joanna," she explained again.

"Oh," Joanna blushed, ducking her head.

"We're just travelling companions," said Marion with a slight frown. Joanna's face cleared and she looked up. "We came upon each other and started travelling together... er... just a little more than a week ago," she explained.

"They're pretty rings," said Joanna in an abrupt change of topic.

"Thankyou," replied Marion, fiddling with them around her fork. "My poor husband had such trouble getting my engagement ring – the chicky in the shop just wanted to sell him a big rock and he knew that I wouldn't like that. Then because it cost more than the allowable withdrawal amount they didn't want to let him pay for it – and he was across the street from his bank!" she smiled. "The wedding ring we got made for us by his ...er.. 2nd cousin's husband or something like that because of the shape of the engagement ring – anything off the shelf would have just rubbed at it."

"Well I think they're beautiful," said Joanna. Her face took on a slightly mournful tone, her blue eyes dulling. "I will never get something as pretty as that."

"It's not their prettiness that I love," shrugged Marion.

Merle found Samson's eyes on him. "Wha'?" he demanded around a mouthful.

"How long did you serve?"

Merle's mouth twitched in unwilling admiration. "T'ree years," he replied. He saw Samson's brow lift. "Me and aut'ority don't git along too well."

"Really?" said Samson dryly and Merle reluctantly grinned back.

"'ow about you?"

"I was in my last year of return service," he replied. "The Corp put me through medical school," he clarified. "So I owed them 7 years." Merle nodded, taking another bite and Samson considered him. "I'll take a look at that arm later if you'd like?"

Merle cast his stump a glance, acutely aware of Marion seated next to him even if she was occupied in conversation. "Wha'ever lights ya tree."

"Can you shoot all of those guns you had in the bag?" Samson asked after a slight pause. Merle nodded. "You any good?" Merle looked up at him and Samson laughed. "My apologies! I shouldn't have had to ask!"

The dinner passed in a gentle hum of conversation, Deborah leaning across the table to engage Marion on occasion and another young woman Naomi joining in a conversation with Joanna and Marion about horses. Merle and Samson talked about experiences in the Corp and he felt himself relaxing more than he had in a long time. The plates were cleared by some of the women, Marion's offer to help virtually shouted down but only finally discouraged by a promise to accept help at breakfast. She did however follow the women to the kitchen to retrieve some scraps for Dog, who danced at her feet in anticipation.

Night had fallen and lamps were extracted from cupboards that lined the walls of the room, candles inside being lit, and couple by couple and small group, the men and women filed out.

Marion returned with a satisfied looking Dog and paused next to Merle, leaning up against the wall looking out to the camp. There was obviously some type of guard posted on the fence, he could see a couple of lamps propped up as high as they would go, and occasionally he would see a shadow passing by their soft glow.

"Marion," said a soft voice and they both turned to Deborah, holding an illuminated lamp with Joanna and Naomi close behind her. "If you are ready, we will show you the sleeping quarters?"

Marion hesitated, looking up at Merle.

"You are not _together_?" said Deborah with a slightly worried tone. "Because if you are..."

"No, no, no," Marion shook her head. "We're travelling companions – that's all."

_Rub it in bitch _thought Merle sourly.

Deborah's face cleared. "Then the single women sleep down in that marquee – the single men up in that one," she added to Merle. "I have already placed your bags in."

Merle nodded once and Marion smiled. "Thankyou then."

Deborah nodded and stepped past her, the two young women following her.

She looked up at him, shrugging "When in Rome..."

"Ya sure?" he said quietly, looking out at the night. "We don't know much of t'ese people."

"I think we're safe," she replied softly. "Don't you?"

He shrugged. There was something off, but dammed if he could place it. He sure as hell couldn't see anything but damn _earnestness_ in Elijah and he would almost go as far to say that he trusted Samson. _That's probably what's wrong big brother_ wheezed a voice. _Ya ain't ever trusted anyone in ya life!_ "I know where ya'll be," he said instead, his eyes on the large tent and inwardly mapping the route between it and the other and the best way through the fence.

Marion saw the women waiting for her just out of the glow of the light. She sighed and stood up on tiptoes, placing a hand on his arm to steady herself as she kissed him on the cheek. Except that her hand on his arm made him turn to her and her lips landed directly on his.

For an instant they both froze, then Marion dropped off her toes, separating their lips quickly. She gave him a little smile. "Goodnight Merle."

"Night woman," he said, watching her join the other women and fade into the distance, Dog's white coat glowing back to him almost to the door of the tent.

"Merle," said a voice behind him and he looked to the right. Samson stood there with his old friends Amos, Aaron and Daniel – Merle smirked. "We've got your rack this way."

The marquee was quite spacious with eight beds spread along most of its length, an area at the end obviously devoted to recreation where there were a few lounge chairs and a small bookcase. Merle saw his bag neatly placed at the end of one of the beds, situated towards the far end of the tent and he made his way down there, nodding to the few men already either in bed or getting ready for it.

"You've had a big day," said Samson as he sat to remove his boots. "But maybe tomorrow night you'll be able to help with watch duty?"

Merle looked at him for a moment and nodded. "Sure t'ing – I'll be wantin' me guns back t'ough."

Samson smiled slightly. "I am sure something can be arranged. Goodnight Merle."

He grunted a response, watching as the man left the tent with Aaron. His other two guards had peeled off to their beds and were now in the stages of undressing. Merle stripped off his vest and shirt, wincing slightly as the scab on his back twinged a little. He crawled into bed, sighing at the feel of the soft mattress and a proper pillow. He rolled onto his right side for a few minutes but after a muttered curse, rolled over onto his left side. _It wasn't like he missed her – it was just that he was used to her being there_ he grumbled to himself and closed his eyes, hearing the slow breathing of the others. _Besides, it'll make it easier to do what he had to do._


	30. Chapter 30

I was a little worried about the 'experimentation with the local herbs' line, but it was post night and I couldn't think of anything better, so it got left in. I have added something into this chapter to clarify my intention– sorry to worry you/get your hopes up!

A request to my 'guests' – please give me a name to work with! Even if you can't (or won't) log on so that I can snoop into your profile or engage with you about your comments, I like to be able to see which comment belongs to which person. Thankyou for taking the time to give me some feedback.

Chapter 30

The growl made her stir slightly in her sleep. She wasn't really all that comfortable, the floor was cold and hard, but her belly was full and she needed the sleep. "Sit down mutt," she muttered, crossing her arms tighter across her chest and letting herself fade into sleep again. The next growl was louder and she glared at the sorry excuse for a dog _bloody yappy mutt_ and kicked out a foot. The dog yelped and ran out of the kitchen and she snorted, closing her eyes again. The dog barked and she swore "Unless you really want to become my lunch mutt, shut the hell up!" She should of course get up and go to bed, but that thought sent a shudder through her frame. _Perhaps the couch?_ she wondered. But it was too much effort to get up so she snuggled down as best she could. She heard another growl and then a noise of vehicles outside – big ones from the sound of it. _Probably Larry and Bo_ she thought dully. There was another growl and she grimaced, resolutely ignoring him. Then suddenly her hand exploded in pain and she gasped, opening her eyes and seeing the dog latched onto it. "Why you little..." she started and then a movement caught her eye and she looked up. _Oh God no_. She screamed. She scrambled up off the floor even as the man who used to be her husband came around the corner of the bench, a pasty look to his skin and a shield of white over his ocean blue eyes. He growled again, reaching out for her, his steps eager. The dog barked, ducking in to grab his ankles but dead-Ben ignored him, stepping through the dog as he reached for her. She staggered back but hit the bench _no-where to go_. He leaned in, his mouth open, the grotesque sounds pushing the stagnant breath into her face.

Marion sat up abruptly – disorientated. Dog whined again from where he'd fallen back onto the bed, moving forward to her lap, licking the hand that came up to touch his head. Marion looked around the tent – it was still dark but there'd been two lamps left glowing enough the illuminate the five other still sleeping women. She sighed and lay back down – but the horrors of her nightmare were too strong and after only a few minutes she sat up again, swinging her legs out of the bed. Out of habit, and a lack of anything else, she had slept in her clothes. She stripped these off, rifling through her bag to find some fresh ones. She was quiet as she changed, and she tiptoed out of the tent. The sun was just starting to make an appearance, kissing the camp with a soft glow that highlighted the suggestion of mist around the edges of the pond and twinkling the heavy due in the grass. There was no movement in the camp, although she could see one of the sentries moving slowly around the perimeter.

The cry of a baby shattered the silence of the camp, another and a third until it was silenced _mum's up_she thought with a grin.

"That'll be little Jebbadiah up for the day," said an amused voice and Marion turned towards the fence. _Aaron?_ smiled at her, the weapon held casually over his shoulder at odds with the coarse smock and trousers and the cow skin wrapped around his shoulders. "He's only two months old and yet he can make a noise like that!" Marion smiled back at him. "You are up early Miss Marion – did you not sleep well?"

"More comfortably than in a while," she admitted. "I'm just used to being up early."

"Breakfast won't be until a little later," he said. "But if you're hungry..."

"No thankyou," she shook her head. She looked around. "I might just go for a walk."

"Within the compound," said Aaron, almost but not quite asking.

Marion chose to take it as a question and nodded. "I thought I might go introduce myself to your horses."

Aaron relaxed slightly. "Watch out for Toby, the big bay gelding – he's cantankerous. Give him a carrot though and he's yours. You'll find some in the barn," he pointed to the large building somewhat unnecessarily.

Marion nodded and turned, Dog frisking at her feet and having to be shushed as he yipped in excitement. She threaded her way along the land-bridge through the pond, finding the entrance into the barn and pausing to check over the sty of pigs with their piglets – which Dog did not like at all – before finding the carrots in what was clearly the horse food area. The horses eyed her, and Dog, with some distrust as she stood up on the fence but at the sniff of carrots they came across, the big bay gelding putting his ears back as he pushed through the others to claim a prize. Marion admonished him for his rudeness but stroked his face gently, scrunching up her face as she tried to figure out exactly what mish mash of a breed they were. _Had to be a portion of Clydesdale in there somewhere _she figured eventually, looking at their large frames with a hint of shagginess in their winter coats. She climbed through the fence and walked slowly out in the paddock, the horses followed her for a bit until they realised that she was out of carrots and then stopped off to graze again. She wandered for a while, looking over the cattle – some dairy which seemed to be making their way to the barn – the sheep and the goats, one of which took exception to Dog and chased him.

The barn was full of activity by the time she got back, after having to convince the horses that she had not found any carrots during her walk, full of dairy cows and those milking them. She spotted Joanna and came up behind her, smiling as the girl turned to her and watching the girl's deft hands worked. Her own attempt later wasn't quite so successful and Joanna laughed as she nudged her out of the way, pointing her towards the chicken feed. Dog attempted to defend her against the rooster and ran yelping out of the pen, Marion laughing even as she planted a boot into the tail feathers of the offending bird.

The women breakfasted alone in their camp after the completion of the chores, the men that had been amongst them leaving their partners with the single women around the campfire. Marion was reintroduced to the women whose names she had forgotten and started to get some details – Elizabeth was with Aaron and quite pregnant, Bethany had only just married Abraham a week ago and she still blushed when the others teased her about his physique, Delilah was with Barnabas, Hannah was with Caleb and looked about ready to pop, Bathsheba was with Emmanuel and about three months pregnant, Chloe was with Gabriel and she said his name matched his personality but that little Jebbadiah certainly had a little bit of devil about him, Hazael was with Gideon and was also a few months pregnant, Josephine was with Goliath and was expecting his baby in two months and Miriam was with Jacob, expecting his baby within the month. Deborah, Judith and Mary were all single as were the two teenagers Joanna and Naomi.

Deborah was the obvious matriarch of the clan, exuding a quiet confidence and peace with every movement and word _stately_ decided Marion, and she was the source of all major decisions. Bathsheba was the main cook ("Can you cook Marion?" "Give me meat and 7 veg and I'm great – anything beyond that, Anzacc biscuits or pikelets and you're not going to be impressed"), somehow to manage with three ovens and hotburners driven by gas and assisted in the main by Bethany although everyone was expected to assist with the preparation, serving and cleanup of meals on a loose roster basis – including the men Marion heard with some relief. "Although don't let Hazael prepare the stuffing," stage whispered Hannah and the woman's face blushed "It looked like basil," she moaned as the other women laughed, "sent us all to the toilets overnight," explained Hannah, "we went through a pallet of toilet paper!" Delilah was in charge of the gardens and her husband Barnabas was in charge of the stock.

Marion's head was spinning slightly but the women were all welcoming and only laughed at her when she got stuck with names. Most of them wore the long dresses that she'd seen them in yesterday, a couple of them wore smocks and skirts around their expanding bellies – only Joanna and Naomi wore jeans and shirts like her. "We ran out of clothes," explained Hannah, a pretty little brunette with doe like eyes "and our sewing skills were pretty limited – Deborah was the only one who really knew how to set a pattern, so we all have the same design!" She turned up to her. "Can you sew?"

"Not to save my life," Marion admitted freely. "I can sew buttons and have been known to force myself to sew along a hem when my daughter grew taller, but that's about it."

"Daughter?" asked Hannah with a grin.

Marion chatted with her about her previous life, even going so far as to extract her photos from her bag and seeing Hannah's photos of her sister and brothers, finding out that Hannah had been what she called an elementary teacher (and what Marion called a primary school teacher) but had heard of the Babylon sanctuary and had come up for a week's retreat. She had never gone back and when Caleb had arrived she had fallen madly in love with him, marrying him about 11months previously.

The others had gradually left around them, Joanna having returned with a barrel of what looked to be beans to Marion. It had been explained to her that these were peas that needed shelling ready for storage over winter and she was handed a knife to do so when she indicated a desire to help. She watched as the ladies used a blade to cut off the top of the husk, then sliced along the length and dropped the peas into a bucket, the husk discarded into a second bucket for the chickens. She had to concentrate for a while, but as one pile decreased and the other increased she was able to divert her attention to conversation. Joanna finally picked up the almost full container of peas and propped it on her hip, promising to bring back another. Hannah laboured to her feet, giving a wry smile about the requirement to find a toilet and Marion was left alone by the fire to finish the pile in front of her.

A shadow came across her lap and she looked up, blinking at Merle. "Where'd you come from?" she asked, looking at the damp mark on his legs and turning behind her towards the pond.

"Just took a walk," he grunted in response and dropped a couple of wild ducks on the ground. "Wha' tha fuck are ya doing?" he demanded, looking at the knife still in her hand.

"I am" she said proudly "shucking peas! I even learned how to milk a cow this morning – although I may need some more practice at that," she admitted and then looked at red marks on her fingers. "And I don't know how good I am this either."

He reached over and grabbed the knife from her, holding it in his fingers and rubbing his thumb across the edge. "No wonder," he shrugged. "Ya blade is blunt." He dropped it point first into the ground and reached into his hip pocket, passing his knife to her. "'ere," he said. "Use t'is".

Marion scrunched her face. "I know where that's been."

"It's clean," he replied with a level of outrage that he'd keep a dirty knife.

"But has it been disinfected?" she said meaningfully and he got her point (1). He tucked the blade back into the sheaf and reached over the bucket of knives that Joanna had brought with the peas.

"I think this was one of the sharpest they had," she said as he discarded one after another with a grunt of discontent.

"Ya still got that whet stone?" he asked finally.

"Mmh hmm" she said. There was a silence and she looked up – he lifted his brow and she sighed, pushing herself up off the log and disappearing into the tent. She returned and passed it to him; he picked up the knife she'd been using. "Ah ah!" she warned as he shaped to spit onto the stone, reaching over and picking up a jug of water. He held out the stone and she dropped a little water onto it, watching as he set the stone between his knees and picked up the blade. A couple of times he almost lost the stone and he swore, but she kept her hands to herself and only watched. Finally he handed the blade over to her and she took it with a quiet "thanks."

Merle watched her for a few moments, then reached over to the bucket of knives, dropping another bit of water onto the stone and setting to sharpen another knife.

The regularity of the sound was strangely soothing and Marion was lulled by the routine of the shelling process, much easier now with a sharp knife, in the warm morning sun. She glanced up as Joanna arrived with another barrel of beans, Marion noting with slight amusement as the girl hesitated at the sight of Merle. But she walked over boldly enough after that slight hesitation, "Good morning Mr Dixon," she said.

"Huh?" Merle looked up. "None of t'at shit girly, name's Merle."

Joanna blushed, "Yes Mr Merle" even as a distant voice called out her name.

"Wha' tha fuck?" growled Merle as she scampered away.

Marion chuckled. "I don't think you're meant to be here," she says as Chloe went past bouncing a grumbling Jebbadiah, and gave them a startled look. She ignored Merle's muttered response to this. "All the single women are in this tent – I don't think they associate much with the men."

"Well some of 'em must," he said pointedly.

She grinned up at him. "Those are the married ones – they live with their husbands in those smaller tents," she explained.

"Well just ya watch wha' water (2) ya drinkin' sugartits," he warned. He found himself given a narrowed stare and returned her own words to her. "Wha'? It's a term of endearment!" (3)

"Term of endearment my..." she muttered but the rest of her words were covered over by a sudden call.

"Merle?" Samson led three men, Aaron_, Caleb and Daniel_ thought Marion, resting her hands on her legs, sensing rather than seeing Merle tense up. She eyed off Hannah's husband, not seeing the friendliness that she exuded in his narrow eyed stare, almost hostile as he looked at Merle. "We missed you at breakfast," continued Samson. "Where have you been?"

"Around," replied Merle harshly with narrowed eyes.

"He did some hunting," Marion intervened and Samson's eyes flicked to her. She nodded at the ducks on the ground. "And he's been sharpening the knives for me while I've been doing the peas," she nodded at the large barrel of husks beside her.

Samson relaxed and nodded at the other men, who turned and walked away, Caleb pausing a little while longer before finally turning away. "Wild ducks hey?" said Samson and sat down on a log opposite them. "Not a bad for a lame duck."

Marion's eye brows shot up, but Merle just gave him a sour smirk.

"You're vehicle's been stolen." Samson announced and was suddenly the centre of attention.

"What?"

"Wha' tha fuck?"

"How do you know?" continued Marion.

"Caleb and some of the men went out there this morning."

"What for?" she asked, Merle sitting strangely silent.

Samson shrugged. "We thought we'd bring your gear in before it got stolen."

Merle snorted and turned back to his knife sharpening, but Marion was still glaring at Samson. "And you didn't take us with you?" she demanded.

Samson turned to her with a slight amount of surprise – _as if he wasn't expecting her to be the problem_ thought Merle and snorted inwardly. _Dummy._

"I thought that you would both be tired after the big day yesterday, and that all your private effects had already been removed," he explained. "My apologies Miss Marion, I meant no offense." He held her eyes until she nodded acceptance, turning back to the peas. "It can't have got far in the condition it was," he continued. "We'll keep looking."

Marion shrugged, casting a glance at Merle. "There wasn't anything crucial in there."

Merle finished the last knife and plopped it into the bucket. He placed the whet stone onto the log next to her and picked up the ducks, looking at Samson. "Want ta give me a 'and Major?"

Samson grinned and unfolded his length. He looked down at Marion. "Good day Miss Marion."

She smiled up at him, "See you later Samson." She met Merle's eyes, chuckling as he dropped her a wink, and watched the two of them head off.

Hannah plopped herself down with a sigh. "Ooh," she exclaimed as she picked up a knife, its new edge shining in the sun, and a handful of beans.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"How was mass?"

Marion jumped, turning from the fire to peer into the dark. Not that she needed to look to know it was; besides the distinctive sarcasm in the drawl, there had only been three of the people at the camp who wouldn't know the answer to that question. She walked into the dark, her eyes adjusting and finding the burly figure standing near the fence with a rifle over his shoulder.

"A little different," she admitted. "Very ..." she sought for the right word. "Spirited." It had been a very lively service, lots of praising the Lord at the top of voices pointing to the roof, lots of singing and lots of exclamations of assent. Elijah, normally so quiet, had become almost a force of nature and Deborah too had wailed and screamed like someone in a total trance. Only Samson had seemed to maintain some sort of aloofness, still joining in with all the required responses, but in a controlled manner. "You didn't want to come?"

Merle snorted. They'd asked him of course – multiple times. He'd held his tongue though, _They're only trying to save your soul_ he had almost heard Marion telling him and having seen her heading into the building had merely shaken his head as the _fourteenth _person had gently and kindly informed him that mass was about to start. Samson had been the last one to come and had actually asked him whether he wanted to come to mass, nodding once at Merle's, brief and to the point, answer. Dinner had followed shortly after and although a few of them looked at him, they only had smiles for him and Samson had engaged him in conversation readily again.

"You like it 'ere," he said.

She looked up at him, having moved to stand almost beside him and looking out through the fence. She shrugged, "I do," she admitted. "There's food, there's shelter – even seems to be a fair amount of security." She searched his face. "Winter's coming, without our vehicle we would have a long way to walk."

"Ya want ta go, we'll manage," he grunted.

She stepped forward, straight in front of him and he looked down at her. "You don't like it here?"

He shook his head. "It ain't that. T'ere ain't not'in' wrong wit' 'ere. As you say, t'ere's food, shelter – hell we could spend tha winter 'ere as easy as. It's just..." he shrugged _fuck it, he didn't know._

"They are rather... friendly," she supplied. She hadn't been let out of someone's sight for most of the day – and while it could have been simply co-incidence, she had a suspicion that she was being _supervised_. There had been no words said, but she had sensed Hannah's disapproval over Merle's appearance at the women's camp; she hadn't seen him again until he had waltzed in for dinner and with supreme disregard for the apparent rules had sat down next to her. She was sure that Joanna's eyeballs had almost escaped her eye sockets and disapproval had crossed Deborah's face before it was smoothed into her normal placid expression. Samson's eyes had danced with amusement and he had sat next to Deborah, engaging Merle in military and hunting conversation for the duration of the meal, taking him away for watch duty at its end.

As if on cue a female figure stepped out from the fire, clearing her throat softly.

"Play it by ear," decided Merle after a glance. He looked down at Marion. "Night woman."

A smile crossed her face and she placed a hand briefly on his arm. "Night Merle." She watched him step off along the fenceline into the dark before turning to walk with Mary inside the tent.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) A mild panic with a thought to a previous chapter and the sword slicing through the pumpkin – but the sword I think did get pretty well disinfected by the fire... oops?

(2) and the juice Meggo!

(3) Just for you Jaded79. I'm with Marion!


	31. Chapter 31

You are all a suspicious bunch aren't you? Here we have good wholesome Christian people, loving their neighbour (spiritually of course) by welcoming in M&M and all that and you lot are all screaming blue murder! Does no-one think that Babylon might be an oasis in the world of dead things?

Slightly different format to get the atmosphere of the camp without too much, what would be lengthy, detail. Hope it works for you. Apologies for you whippersnappers reading – some of the references may go over your heads, but YouTube and Wikipedia are such wonderful resources, I'm sure you'll manage to catch up.

Chapter 31

"How about you Marion?" asked Delilah.

Marion leant back on her haunches, resting her back from a morning of planting seedlings which were, apparently, going to be able to actually grow during the winter. Pretty much all of the women were in the garden, although Hannah and Miriam were perched in chairs, occupied with trying to knit something approaching baby clothes. Josephine had insisted on helping in the garden, but her belly kept getting in the way so she had lumbered to her feet and had gone to find some drinks.

"Mine were somewhat of a challenge," she said. "Rachel was 10 10," there were some gasps amongst the women – while Chloe was the only one with a child, some of the other women had previously had them, now lost or just unknown and most of them had enough experience to appreciate the significance. "She was a week late and I ended up having to have a C section to get her. She looked somewhat like a sumo wrestler when she arrived, still full of fluid I suppose. Jenny was on time – she was 9 9. Ben and I always joked that the next one would have been early and 8 8."

"Was he a large man?" asked Hannah with some concern, whose husband Caleb stood more than a head taller than her.

"Not really – a little taller than me," replied Marion, leaning forward to plant some more seedling. "It's just in my genes apparently – Nanna had large babies too."

"But did Jenny come out the proper way?" asked Joanna.

"If by the 'proper' way you mean _vaginally_," said Marion with a slight steely edge and Joanna tucked her head a little. "Then yes she did – but she had to have help and there was a fair amount of damage."

Joanna paled – as did Hannah and Marion looked up at her apologetically. "It was one of many reasons why we never tried for a third."

"Well with Jebbadiah," Chloe launched into her own birth story, which then started off the strange type of competition that women have as to who had, or knew of, the worst birth experience. Th baby in question lay on a blanket on the ground, kicking his legs and waving his arms – Dog watching in fascination from a close distance.

"Marion," Deborah caught her arm as they finished the planting and made their way to wash up ready for lunch. "She meant no harm."

"I know," nodded Marion with a sigh. "I copped a bit at the time – being 'too posh to push' and all that guff. I'll talk to her later and apologise."

"She _is _only 16, her mouth often runs ahead of her brain," added Deborah.

Marion grinned. "Like a galloping horse!"

Deborah laughed and they walked together in perfect accord, Marion sitting next to Joanna at lunch and drawing her out of her mortification.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"What about you Merle?"

Merle straightened up from the tractor, giving a glare to Gabriel as he bounced the baby in his arm. "I ain't never 'ad a woman around long 'nough."

"You don't need to be around long," sniggered Caleb, earning himself a look of reproof from Aaron.

"How long you been with Miss Marion?" asked one of the young men, Benjamin.

"I ain't wit' 'er," shrugged Merle with his head in the engine. He muttered an instruction to David who was helping him and the spanner was deployed. "She's just a broad t'at I picked up on tha way t'rough."

"But you've been travelling together?" persisted Ben. "You must have... " he faltered under a look from Aaron, flushing.

_Obviously don't know much about her_ snorted Merle and looked up at Aaron, sitting behind the wheel. "Give it a go now."

The tractor whirred and coughed, Merle grabbed the spanner and whacked a component and the engine roared into life, filling the shed with a cloud of black smoke.

"Thanks Merle," said Aaron after he had handed over the driving duties to David, clapping him on the back and seemingly ignoring the flinch from Merle. "Since Matthew died we've been struggling with the mechanical stuff and couldn't make it work."

"It's a quick fix," shrugged Merle. "Ya need a new belt if ya'r going to git it t'rough winter."

"There's a Massey Ferguson dealership half a day's ride away," mused Aaron. "I'll talk to Elijah and Samson about going down there before the snow hits."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"Dukes of Hazard?" giggled Joanna. "I remember that!"

"Not the one with Jessica Simpson in it," Hazael shook her head. "This one had ..." she paused in washing the barrel of carrots before her, looking to Marion, who threw up her hands, flicking water onto Dog who shook in mild irritation.

"Don't look at me – I don't even remember the character names. I always had the hots for the blond one." She shrugged, dipping her hands back into the water. "They were such studs – such perfect gentlemen. I should never have watched the reunion episode though – it destroyed many childhood memories."

"What about Knightrider?"

"Now that was my vintage – David Hasselhoff was such the bees knees then," agreed Marion. "I loved KITT too – I was so excited one year when I was a kid when he came to our town's show – the car, not the Hoff. It wasn't until Baywatch that I was old enough to ...er.. _appreciate_ him."

Some of the ladies laughed lightly, Joanna and Naomi just looked grossed out.

"The Lone Ranger!"

"Oh what little girl couldn't like that?" exclaimed Marion. "That beautiful white horse – and the music! I used sing that for Jenny when I was changing her nappy – always snapped her out of whatever hissy fit she was having. Also..." she stopped herself as she remembered what part of America she was in and Merle's reaction to her use of the word Yank. She decided to let the other song remain her secret. "Of course it was probably horribly offensive for anyone with Native American blood." She paused. "Open All Hours." She looked at a series of blank faces. "Ronnie Barker and David Jason? granville, fetch your clorth," she parodied. Still nothing but blank faces. She sighed, "David Jason was the voice of Danger Mouse," she added and there was some laughs of recognition from the ladies of her age. Naomi and Joanna looked mystified.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"Huh?" said Merle, pulling himself out from underneath the old truck.

"Nuts," offered Abraham, his muscles threatening the integrity of his shirt sleeves. "You're not allergic are you?"

"Na," Merle shook his head and reached for a mouthful.

"You got any allergies?" continued Abraham.

_Only to nosy pricks_ thought Merle.

"It's just – we don't want to feed you anything that could hurt you."

"As healthy as a 'orse," he said gruffly, grunting as he forced the spanner. "Git ya ass down 'ere He-Man – I could use a 'and."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Dog growled lazily and Marion turned from the horse, smiling as she saw Merle picking his way across the landbridge. He unloaded the rifle off his shoulder and propped against the fence. The big bay gelding walked forward to see what he might have brought and Merle almost absently rubbed at his nose.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Just ta do a patrol," he replied. "T'ey don't walk the stock's paddock – trusting tha water ta keep 'em safe. I reckon tha geeks'd be attracted by all this easy meat." He gave her a glance. "T'ought I'd do t'at while ya praying."

She smiled, tickling the lips of the grey mare in front of her. It would be that time again soon. "Will you be back for dinner?"

"Ain't worth tha hassle if I ain't," he grumbled and she realised that his patrol was as much to get some time to himself as to check for the safety of the group – she buried the urge to ask him if she could come along. "'ere's ya dragon now."

Marion turned, her lips twitching as she saw Joanna making her way across to them, her golden hair glowing in the late afternoon sun. She slapped Merle lightly on the arm. "Behave! She's only a kid. Coming Jo!" she called out. She turned back to him. "Be careful."

"I'll be right," he snorted, picking up his rifle and clambering through the fence, the horses following him for a little while before they decided he wasn't going to give them anything.

Joanna met her at the edge of the bridge. "Where is Mr Merle going?"

Marion's mouth twitched but she held it in check. "Just for a sweep."

"But it's time for mass," she protested and opened her mouth to call.

Marion put a hand on the girl's arm. "Merle's relationship with God is... somewhat informal," she found the right words finally. "He doesn't feel comfortable in a formal service." Neither did she, she decided a little while later when Bethany fell to the floor in holy hysterics and Emmanuel shouted to the ceiling in some type of babble. That didn't seem to worry Joanna though, taking Bethany's place to set out dinner while the woman retired to rest.

"Wasn't it wonderful?" she exclaimed. "The Holy Spirit visiting us like that?"

Marion pursed her lips, letting the girl's holy joy washing over her without a terrible lot of feedback.

"Marion?" the girl looked at her. "Don't you believe?"

She considered her words carefully. "In the Holy Spirit and that He has the gift of tongues – yes. That Bethany and Emmanuel were visited while we were at mass – I'm sure that they believe they were. And maybe that is enough."

Joanna was a little silent after that and Marion was relieved to see Merle stalk in through the door, his pants wet to about his knees, a brace of hares tied together off his belt. He walked to his place, cutting Naomi off – she paused, startled, before turning back down the table to get some people to shuffle along so that she could sit, filling up the empty spot that had been left for him at the other end of the table. Delilah hurried to take the rabbits off him, and also held out her hand for the gun, but he shook his head and placed it against the table next to him. She looked uncertainly towards Samson and received a slight nod, so she turned back to the kitchen.

"I think I've lost my halo," Marion told him as they walked out of the room after dinner. Joanna had hardly exchanged a word with her.

He snorted and rubbed her head. "It's only a lit'le tarnished sugar. Ya'll gloss it up again. See ya in tha morning."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

The geeks frothed at the mouth, pushing harder and harder at the door which banged ominously under their pressure. They were coming. It was only a matter of time. He looked at the hacksaw, at the cuffs which it hadn't been able to make a dent in. The roar of the geeks faded into the background behind his breathing and pumping of his blood. He grabbed his belt in his teeth and yanked it tight. He placed the blade on the skin and using all the force he could muster, he dragged the blade back.

Ben's eyes widened like saucers as the blade kissed his throat.

"Wha' tha fuck?" growled Merle, coming wide awake and lowering his knife. "Git back into bed kid."

Ben pulled himself off Merle's bed, standing almost hesitantly at the end of his bed.

"Wha'?" demanded Merle.

"Can you roll over please?" asked Ben.

"Why tha fuck..."

"You snore" said David from a couple of beds down as Ben swallowed a couple of times, unable to find any words.

"I do not," he snapped.

"You do," said five voices in chorus as Ben nodded vigorously.

"Hmph," grouched Merle and rolled over onto his left side. "Do fuckin' not," he muttered to himself.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Dog whined and Marion placed a finger to her lips. "Ssh Dog," she said and wrapped the blanket around her a little tighter. She wished that she'd thought to bring along, or otherwise have been able to retrieve, the jackets that they'd loaded in the car, she was ill equipped for these cold mornings, but she just hadn't been able to stay in bed any longer, the horror of the nightmare too strong. She looked over the camp, the fire at the men's camp was still smoking and she could see a couple of the smaller fires in the married section had a bit of life in them. The two guards – Goliath (who was not aptly named in her opinion as he was a tall slender man who looked like he would break in a stiff breeze) and Jacob were walking the fence. As far as she knew there had been no geeks sighted for several weeks – it seemed that this place had been blessed. _So why don't you like it here?_ She wondered to herself, looking around. The place was idyllic really – it had food, it had shelter, its people were friendly and helpful. _It's just that they're so... _she remembered Deborah the night before ...

"These are your supples," she said after leading Marion back into the tent. Marion looked down at the paper bag and opened it curiously, seeing the packets of sanitary products and she lifted a brow. "You'll be needing them soon I would think?" she continued. Marion frowned and Deborah hurried into speech again. "It's just – well you used the shower with the curtain again tonight."

Marion smiled, she had used the shower with the curtain because being exposed to numerous full frontals in the communal room from women that she barely knew had been a little out of her comfort zone. "Thankyou." All of the supplies that she had painstakingly obtained from the shops _was it only three days ago?_ were still with the car – wherever that was. She had meant to put them in her purple bag but had not got around to it.

"Will it be enough?" asked Deborah delicately. "If you have heavy..."

Marion held up her hand. "This will be fine, thanks Deborah."

She sighed, feeling the crisp morning air tingle all the way to her lungs. She saw the flap of the single men's tent hurled open and Merle paused on the threshold. He looked over and met her eyes briefly. She smiled and he nodded back at her, before shouldering the rifle and turning to head to the gate.

She heard the cry shatter the still air and smiled slightly. She hesitated only a moment and then with a nod of determination made her way over to the source of the noise. As she got closer she heard the whispered conversation between the two parents – almost but not quite arguing. "Chloe?" she called through the tent flap. "Chloe? Do you want me to take him?"

There was silence and then a couple of hurried steps and Chloe peered at her with Jebbadiah bouncing in her arms. Her eyes were heavy, there were dark rings under her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "He can't possibly be hungry – I just fed him an hour ago."

"You didn't wake me," she reassured her. "And he probably just has wind or something. I'll take him for a walk if you want."

"Could you?" breathed Chloe. "I'm just so tired – we both are."

"Of course I can," smiled Marion and held out her arms. She took the baby and arranged the blanket so his head was protected. "Go and get some sleep – you won't be any good to him anyway if you're not rested."

"God bless you," murmured Chloe.

"Come on then Dog," Marion invited. She jiggled a little as she walked, turning to head towards the barn and the horses. Jebbadiah's mouth opened and she jiggled a little harder. "Oh I don't think so young man" and she placed her thumb into his mouth. He latched on with startling ferocity, his eyes closing in reflex. "Oh, you're a sucky boy are you?" She started humming _The ants go marching one by one hurrah hurrah the ants go marching one by one hurrah hurrah,the ants go marching one by one, the little one stops to suck his thumb, and they all go marching down to the ground Ba-Boom Ba-boom_ as she walked down towards the stables.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

"I don't fuckin' snore," Merle groused and Adam shook his head, rubbing his eyes and rolling back over in bed. Merle continued out of the tent – casting a look over to the women's camp _she wasn't up yet_ he saw, but even as he watched he saw the flap open and the white furball bounced out and Marion followed. She looked up and he knew that her lips moved in a slight smile before she turned to the barn. She had apparently, in the bit more than a week that they'd been at the farm, adopted the horses as her own. Since she was normally up early she would have them fed and out of the way before the cows were ready to make their way into the barn, which made it easier for all involved. She would then, in contravention to the established protocol, head to the showers to be finished by the time the milking had finished and the men had right of way. The rest of her day was then filled with the chores associated with a farm and keeping thirty people with clean clothes and fed. Merle had been placed into the shifts of watching the perimeter, replacing Gabriel who was normally half dead on his feet with a baby that was having trouble sleeping through the night. He'd also been hunting within the compound, getting the wild ducks (and one goose that made the mistake of trying to chase him) and the rabbits that came in for the newly planted vegetables. Aaron had pretty much put him in charge of the machinery on the farm as well.

He rarely got to see Marion except at dinner time and then she was normally talking to Deborah or Joanna and he to Samson – on impulse he followed her down to the barn. He found her mixing up the feeds from the barrels of feed, half upended in one barrel as she reached for the dregs at the bottom and he admired the view for a moment while Dog growled at him lightly before clearing his throat. She came out in a rush, but her face relaxed as she saw it was him.

He frowned. "Wha's up?"

"Nothing," she replied with a smile. "Just don't have long enough arms."

She didn't fool him. He'd seen that look on a woman's face before – not the one she'd given him when she'd recognised him (that was pretty much unique to her), the one before that. It had been fear."Horseshit."

"No, cleaned all that up," she said cheerfully and walked past him carrying the buckets. "I see that you've had a hair cut – I'd ask for my money back if I was you."

He had only the night before taken his knife to his scalp to remove the soft curls that had been forming and knew from the tingle of the air in spots that he had taken a bit too much off, but he saw her words for what they were – his hand snapped out and caught her elbow. "Woman – has someone been bothering you?"

"No," she shook her head. He squeezed her arm and she looked up. "Not bothering."

"Wha'?" he snarled.

"Admiring – from a little too close," she described carefully. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Who?" he demanded.

Marion scrunched her nose a little. "What are you going to do?"

"Have a lit'le word," he replied.

"Would this little word involve physical confrontation?" she ventured hesitantly. He smirked and she shook her head. "It'll be fine Merle. Really," she insisted and put her hand over his.

He growled, but released her and grabbed one of the buckets off her as he followed her out. He gave it back to her and took the wheelbarrow she filled full of hay and pushed it out to where the horses were gathering, following her as she walked amongst them at ease as they shuffled around to get at the hay, swapping around as the dominant horse moved the less dominant down the chain of buckets looking for something different.

"I'm goin' out ta town tomorra," he said as she finished. "Which one of t'em should I take?"

"Can you ride?" she asked and gave him back the look that he gave her. "Are you ok, competent, good, an expert...?" she continued.

"Been years since I sat a 'orse," he admitted. "But used ta do it all tha time when I was a kid."

"I'd suggest King then," she said, pointing out the paint gelding. "He's got a bit of bulk to carry you, and he's steady – but he's not a slug. You make it clear that you're the boss and he'll move along sharply." She paused. "What are you getting?"

"Some parts for tha tractor and tha truck," he replied. "Mostly belts and stuff – not'in' tha 'orse can't carry," he added hastily as she turned to him with a frown.

"I'll come with you then," she nodded. "We can swing past the car on the way back."

Merle looked carefully straight ahead. "Tha car was stolen women."

"So I understand," she nodded complacently. "But I'm sure you can remember where you hid it."

He smirked at her.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

They were both up early the next morning as per normal, but this time Merle carried the sword as well as his gun and also had the crossbow and quiver over his shoulder – having raided the weapons cache the day before. Marion shivered in the frosty air despite the long sleeve shirt she wore and he shrugged out of his long shirt, she looked at him for a second before taking it with a quiet thanks.

The horses piled around her as normal, King munching contentedly as she strapped the halter over him and led him to Merle while she did the same with the big bay gelding.

"Ya taking t'at prick?" said Merle doubtfully, eyeing the animal as he put his ears back at Dog.

"Mmm hmm," she nodded, tying the gelding up to the hitching rail. Merle followed her into the tack room and she pointed out the gear that she had located with Joanna's help the day before, reaching for her own.

"Wha' tha fuck is t'at?" he demanded as she placed what could hardly be called a saddle on top of the gelding.

"I _think_," she said. "That it is a jockey pad."

"Ya riding in t'at?" he scoffed, reaching under the horse to grab the girth and pulling through the rings.

"I would prefer something with a bit more substance," she admitted. "But _I_ don't need handles on my saddles," she snipped and he frowned in puzzlement before looking at the pommel on his saddle.

There was a whoosh and he turned to see Marion dropping her knee and reefing the girth up several holes at once. She came over to him to see whether he needed help with the girth _which he didn't _and then picked up the bridle to put it on his horse. Hers own followed but when she lifted her foot towards the stirrup she frowned, putting her foot down and looking around. "I t'ought ya said ya could ride" he teased.

"Oh I can," she grumbled. "If your horses weren't grown on steroids..." (1)

He snorted and took the couple of steps towards her, lowering his hand. She looked at it for a moment then up at him before placing her foot in it. She yelped as she was tossed into the air, settling herself in the saddle, the crossbow over her shoulder and the sword in a tie on the saddle as he mounted his own steed.

Merle turned them to the back of the property, having been given directions from Aaron and the stock scattered from them as they made their way through them, some of the other horses dancing around them. _She could ride _he decided, watching Toby dance beneath her and the gentle way that she told him off and then settled him down to a steady walk, easily matching the slightly larger but lethargic pace of King. They came up to the fence and Merle pointed at the geek nudging into the fence with increasing purpose as they got closer. Marion shifted the reins to her left hand, shrugging the crossbow off her shoulder and after a small period of negotiation with Toby, set it up to her shoulder and released the bolt.

Merle snorted with laughter as the bolt not only missed wildly but the horse shied violently, almost dislodging Marion as he spun and tried to gallop away, Dog following and barking in a not so helpful way. Marion brought the horse back under control, rousing on both him and the dog, and came back to Merle, who had leant over from the saddle and stabbed the frothing geek in his eyeball as King picked at the grass.

"Maybe need a bit more practice," she admitted, standing up the stirrups to free the bolt from the tree.

"Takes a pretty good bowman to shoot from a 'orse," he said grudgingly. "Ya can't expect to be an expert wit'in a fortnight."

But she took the issue seriously and the next half hour was filled with the hiss of the bolts flying from her bow. Merle offered the occasional instruction, but otherwise kept silent, listening to Marion's reprimands to the gelding until he finally became inured to the sound of the bow and to the sounds of the forest. He directed her down a hill towards the town and she placed the bow back across her shoulders to concentrate on what ended up being a rather steep and slippery slope. The horses were sure footed though and the trees thinned at the base of the hill.

Marion looked over her shoulder. "Shall we move along a little bit?"

Her definition of moving along Merle found out was going flat strap across the open plain and she took off as soon as he nodded. "Ya fuckin' kiddin' me?" he growled and kicked King in the ribs – the gelding snorted, kicking up his heels and took off after the bay.

She looked back over her shoulder, a grin plastered from one end of her face to the other and he grinned back, then shifting his eyes slightly to admire her ass stuck up in the air as she galloped along _there was something to be said for her dislike of pommels after all_. "Come on," he urged his horse and the larger horse lengthened his stride, reducing the distance between them.

Dog barked and Marion turned, easing back on the reins and slowing her horse back to a canter, a trot and then finally a walk. Merle pulled in next to her. "Feelin' better?"

"Oh yes," she exclaimed, her face pink from the cold air and breathing hard. She turned back. "Come on Dog!"

The town was a small collection of shops with about the same number of houses spread out across a flat area with hills either side. Marion pulled the crossbow around again as the horses walked into town, Dog trotting just in front of them. The street remained empty and they went straight to the dealership, Merle ducking inside while she remained outside with the crossbow, the horses tied up and Dog sniffing with intent around the decorative shrubs.

Marion looked up and down the street, a shop window catching her eye. She stepped back towards the door. "Merle?"

"Wha'?" floated back the voice.

"You clear in there?"

"So far," he replied. "Wha's up?"

"Nothing – I'm just going to wander down the street a little."

"Where to?"

"There's a chem... a drug store down the road," she replied. "I want to look for something for Jebbadiah."

"Watch yaself."

"Yes mum," she muttered and with one more look around grabbed the horses' reins and led them down the street, knowing that to separate them would only cause more trouble and that she was the one who needed help to mount.

Merle found her with the saddlebags at her feet in front of the baby section. "Ya got somet'ing ta tell me woman?" he demanded gruffly.

She flashed him a grin. "No, no. I've been real careful with the water I've been drinking," she quipped. "Jebbadiah needed a dummy," she explained, "and I thought I may as well get some teething gel, nappy rash cream, some bottles, a breast pump, a steriliser, some toys..."

Merle peered into the bag, some of the items looking like instruments of torture to him. "T'at lit'le thin' needs all t'at shit?"

"That's barely scratched the surface," she protested.

"Ya've got five of tha same t'ings in t'ere!" he exclaimed.

"Have you seen how many pregnant women there are in there?" she demanded. "I may as well get everything I can while I'm here – just in case we can't get back for a while."

_So it would be 'we' only _thought Merle but as he cast his mind over the other women he had to admit that none really showed any likelihood of having an excursion outside the camp.

"I got room," he said. "Ya want me ta get some of t'em diapers?"

"Condoms would be a better move," she muttered – his head turned to her suddenly and she raised her voice. "I don't see that there's much point – they'll go through them too quick by the time you get some of the different sizes." _They come in different sizes? _"If I could find some cloth ones I'd take them, but I can't see anything." She looked over her shoulder. "Is there any of those pills that we should take?"

Merle cast his eye over them, pulling out some antibiotics and painkillers. He hesitated over the birth control pills _she hadn't really said that had she?_ and in the end left them alone. If they wanted to stop breeding like rabbits then they could _fuckin' well _come and get them.

Dog growled and he stalked to the door. "Time's up," he announced and grabbed her saddlebag even as she pushed a last armful of bottles in and she followed him out the door. He flung the saddle bags over the bay gelding and she flung the reins over his neck, grabbing Dog in one hand as Merle threw her up in the saddle. The geeks growled, drawn by the overpowering scent of two sweaty horses from the places they had crawled, but they were no match for two galloping horses and soon Merle held up his stump for them to slow down.

"Will we lead them to the camp?" worried Marion.

"Ya got no fuckin' idea have you?" snorted Merle. "Tha camp is t'at way,' he pointed over his shoulder.

"How on earth do you know that?" she demanded.

"The camp is to the north."

"Yeah," she nodded. "And if the sun wasn't obscured by clouds, I could find north." She looked up to see his brows drawn together. "You put the 12 towards the sun and wherever the hour hand is pointing is north." She looked at her watch and frowned. "But I wonder if it's south here? Or maybe you should use the 6?"

_Always making something harder than it needs to be_ he shook his head. "Ain't never had a watch in me life," he groused.

"So how do you know where north is?"

"'cause the moss grows on the north side of the trees," he stated.

Marion's mouth formed an 'o' and he smirked as he watched her lean forward to examine the trees closely. They changed direction in the line of a creek, splashing through the shallow water after letting the horses drink a bit. Merle took the sandwich she found for him in her saddlebag and they let the horses dawdle while they munched, Marion looking at the trees and demanding he identify each one, as well as some of the birds that were flitting back and forth. He led to the east of the camp, skirting the worst of the hill that they had come down and up through a valley. They were almost on top of the car before she saw it – he'd hidden it with branches and leaves that he'd cut down. She gave him an ironic grin when she found that he had locked the door, but he flicked her the key and she opened the back door.

"Wha' ya getting'?" he asked, looking in the back of the tray and checking the weather proofing of their supplies.

"Jackets," she replied, flicking one out to him. She hesitated as her hand brushed his backpack, but he didn't seem all that interested and so she padded it back over with the dirty clothes _shame she couldn't take them back_. "There's not enough fur and hides to go around – and I really am much more comfortable in polyester anyway."

"And where are we goin' ta say we got t'ese?" he demanded. "Ya ain't goin' ta tell 'em 'bout tha car woman."

"Of course not," she assured him, still fiddling in the back of the car. "We can say we found them behind the counter at the shops – couldn't we?"

Merle scrunched his nose. "You say it – t'ey might believe it." He looked back into the tray. "Ya want t'ese cloth t'ings?" he asked and unclipped the box.

"No – I'll ... get them," she finished in a mutter as he smirked, one hand full of cloth and looking at the boxes of condoms which had been underneath them. "For trade only," she insisted.

He chuckled, tossing her the cloths and strapping up the box. "Come on – we betta git back before it gets dark."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

They saw Joanna throw herself off the gate and run into the camp and Merle cast her a glance. She sighed, knowing that the freedom that she had just enjoyed during the day was about to be curtailed. "Um – Merle," she said hesitantly as she saw a group approaching the gate. "A head's up?"

He looked at her, his eyes narrowed. "Ya fuckin' didn't?"

She shrugged. "I didn't think they'd let me come if I said anything."

"Hell woman," he swore, but mildly.

Elijah led the group waiting for them, Samson at his shoulder with Deborah's hand on his arm. Joanna bounced next to Naomi, with Ben leaning in to whisper something to them that made them giggle. Hannah was coming down slowly, her husband Caleb pausing with her a moment before outstepping her to arrive at the gate as it was opened.

"Merle, Miss Marion!" exclaimed Elijah in welcoming tones. "Bless the Lord that you have returned – we were so worried about you."

Marion nodded pleasantly as she guided her gelding through the opening, riding the slight dance he put on at finding himself surrounded a little more loosely than she would otherwise and the crowd backed off a little. Merle pushed his gelding after her, backing the crowd off even further. He rode up past her into the barn and threw himself off the horse, letting the reins fall where they would and stepping to her side.

Marion looked down at him in puzzlement, _surely he knew that she was more than capable of dismounting_, but there he was, his hand and stump extended up to her. She frowned a little.

"Come on woman – ain't got all day," he said brusquely. _Come on woman_.

She swung her leg over the front of the saddle and kicked her other foot free. She leant down and placed her hands on his shoulders. "What are you doing?" she whispered.

He stepped back and brought her whole body against his chest, letting her slide down his entire body until her toes hit the floor. He held her against him for a moment longer, moulding her soft curves to him, her arms looped around his neck and his hand pausing on her rear end just long enough that her mouth opened again. "Giving you some breat'ing room," he muttered and released her.

Marion wobbled a little as he removed his support from her _It's just a long time since she'd had a ride_ she said to herself. _Nothing to do with..._

"We were worried about you!" said Samson/Deborah

"What tha fuck for?" said Merle. "There was no need," said Marion.

"We didn't know where Marion was" said Samson. "We didn't know where you'd gone," said Deborah.

"She didn't tell ya?" said Merle. "Merle didn't tell you?" said Marion.

"No," said Samson/Deborah.

"Stupid bitch," snorted Merle. "Oops –sorry about that," shrugged Marion.

"It's dangerous out there," said Samson/Deborah.

"No shit Sherlock," said Merle. "I am quite aware of that, thankyou," said Marion icily.

Samson clapped Merle on the back. "Next time – just let us know what's going on, hey?"

"It's just that we were worried about you," Deborah explained and Marion's face softened.

"Where'd you get those?" asked Samson/Deborah, eyeing off the jackets that they both wore.

"Marion got 'em," replied Merle. "Found them amongst some other stuff," replied Marion.

"Shall I take him off you?" asked Benjamin.

"T'anks kid – my ass is killin' me" nodded Merle. "No thanks Benjamin," smiled Marion. "He carried me all day, the least I can do is clean him up and give him something to eat."

She looked over as the majority of the group walked out of the barn, Deborah on Elijah's elbow, Aaron talking with Merle about the contents of his saddlebags, Samson with her sword and crossbow. Joanna propped herself on a hay bale, ready for a recount of the days' events and Benjamin started to unsaddle King. Merle looked around as he walked through the door, and winked at her – involuntarily she smiled.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) An over-generalisation I know, but the two horse rides I had in the Northern Hemisphere were on animals that were crossed with mammoth I swear. The cowboy must have been pissing himself laughing after I almost indignantly told him that I _did not_ need the mounting block. I know I had a cramp in my leg for a while! _Plus_ the handle got in my way when going up a hill!

The last section is meant to convey two concurrent conversations – I tried it that way rather than write two separate sections and I enjoyed the result of the direct comparison between the two. Hope you did as well.


	33. Chapter 33

Now this is just something sweet and light – the relevance will be apparent later on, but for the moment I hope you enjoy the M&M (is it fitting that my acronym is also a chocolate?).

Chapter 33

Marion yawned, stretching her sore muscles – it had been too long without being on a horse to jump straight into a day long ride and there were bits of her sore that she had forgotten about. And to top it off the nightmares had woken her up even earlier while it was still dark, she hadn't been able to get up because she couldn't see – so she had stayed awake in her bed for a couple of hours before making her way to the barn. The drudgery of the farm didn't overly appeal to her after the freedom of yesterday, the exhileration of the ride, even when being pursued by geeks, the uncomplicated company that Merle offered. She sighed _wishing it was yesterday again wouldn't get the horses fed._

There had of course been repercussions for sneaking out of the place the day before. Deborah had obviously been worried sick about her, and had made it quite clear to her as soon as Joanna had walked with _escorted? _her back to the tent. The pressure had only been released when Chloe and the other pregnant women had discovered her prizes, Jebbadiah latching onto the third dummy _pacifier apparently Marion! _that was offered like a drowning man on a life jacket. The other two had been disinfected and stored with the unopened supplies in a cupboard, Naomi and Joanna blanching as Marion explained the workings of the manual breast pump to Chloe and Miriam took the steriliser out to Jacob to try and figure out how they might make it work or otherwise approximate something similar.

Marion's mouth stretched in a smile as she remembered Joanna's questioning on the walk – "What's he like?"

"What's who like?"

"Mr Merle" replied Joanna, blushing as Marion turned to look at her.

"We're just travelling companions," Marion said again.

"It didn't look like that," replied Joanna. "That looked... well it looked..."

_It did, didn't it_ thought Marion. The way her body had slid down his length – feeling every definition of the muscles in his chest, over his flat belly, his hips... She swallowed, feeling a slight warmth flood her bloodstream. "He was just trying to send a signal for me," she said finally.

"A signal?" she frowned at her. "What type of signal?"

"That I'm not available," she replied.

"But you are, aren't you? I mean – if you're not with Mr Merle and _he's_ not with you," persisted Joanna and Marion frowned, turning to look at her properly. The girl blushed under her regard and all of a sudden a thought popped into Marion's head.

"I don't think Merle is the right type of man for you Joanna."

"Why not?" demanded the girl with the 'it's not fair' tones. "I'm coming up to my 17th birthday in a couple of months."

Marion winced. "Sweety – _I'm_ old enough to be your mother, let alone Merle who's older than me. I doubt that your parents – or Elijah and Deborah," she added on the recollection that her parents were dead, "would want you to consider Merle as a worthy match."

"Is there something wrong with him?" Joanna persisted. "I mean his hand... there's no other deformities is there?"

Unbidden came the image of a naked Merle still glistening from his shower, a Merle with a raging erection pushing against his pants and a giggle almost burst from her lips. Her voice was only marginally shaky though as she replied. "No – no deformities."

"You think he doesn't know how to please a woman?" Her face turned into shock. "Maybe he doesn't _like _women? If you and he haven't..."

Marion had lost her control by that stage, and Joanna started to stiffen a little. "Oh no sweety – I'm sorry. But please _promise me_ that you will never _ever_ ask Merle about his preferences?" Joanna nodded with a slightly flushed face as Marion regained control of her face and voice and spoke seriously. "I don't think that anything like that would be the issue. I really do think that his age would be the issue – for Elijah and Deborah – and Merle himself."

Joanna nodded, but her eyes took on a slightly determined gaze and Marion had wondered whether she needed to warn Merle that he was about to be convinced that Joanna was no child.

The memory made her chuckle again, shaking her head. She gave Toby a last rub on the shoulder and took herself back to the barn, noting that she had dallied a little too long and that the milking was in full swing. She picked up her pace to get to the showers but her step faltered at the site of a figure waiting at the building.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle stretched as he stepped outside, shrugging deeper into the coat that they'd brought back the day before. _He should still be asleep_ of course, having finished shift at 4am he could sleep through breakfast and get up midmorning. But like clockwork his body had woken him up just at dawn and even at the best of times there was no way he was getting back to sleep again.

The nightmares had been strong again – he'd woken up in a sweat, with the distinct memory of having shouted. He'd crashed back to the pillow with a groan, rubbing at his face with his hand, his stump still throbbing as if the blade had only just passed through it. Samson had not been too worried about him going out the day before – Aaron had obviously informed him of the need for it, but Elijah had been very upset that he'd allowed Marion to go with him.

"She's a woman Merle, something to be treasured, protected, nurtured," said Elijah in his earnest tones. "She shouldn't have to be subjected to the horrors of the world outside."

"It's a bit late for that man," snorted Merle.

"All the more reason to shelter her," had urged Elijah. "She has already suffered too much. She is delicate, fragile, precious," _were they talking about the same bitch?_ thought Merle with a smirk. "To put a weapon in her hand is reprehensible."

"I didn't put any fuckin' thin' in 'er 'and," snapped Merle. "She came along because she knew what baby shit you lot needed."

"Baby stuff?" repeated Elijah and Samson's brows lifted.

"Yeah – all sorts of shit she reckons ya lot are going ta need," he nodded, glad that they'd been distracted.

"Not for you?" had asked Elijah and for a moment Merle had just stared at him.

"Fuckin' hell no," he burst out and saw Samson's lips twitch. "She ain't my woman."

"It looked..." Elijah's words dried up delicately.

"She's 'er own woman," he replied. "She chooses who she wants," he added significantly, hoping to see the light come on somewhere in Elijah's eyes. He thought the point had been made with Samson, but Elijah seemed impervious to it and he gritted his teeth.

Elijah had left shortly after that, Samson following but pausing at the edge of the tent. "Can she use that crossbow and sword?"

"She ain't bad," nodded Merle.

Not bad at all, he thought with the brisk morning air almost bitter on his cheeks. She wasn't the equal of Daryl – but she might scare _the pussy_ just enough to make it interesting. At the thought of her he looked down towards the barn, seeing her leaving the horses. Knowing where she'd go next he moved his eyes up to the shower block, noting with narrowed gaze the figure that was loitering not far away, but out of her sight. _Fuckin' prick_ he thought and ducked back into the tent. Ben groaned and covered his head with his pillow and Merle looked at him with a frown, reaching down at his bed and picking up his towel, striding back out of the tent even as Ben sighed in relief, rolling over and closing his eyes with some optimism.

"Merle," Caleb nodded at him, looking at the towel. "It's a bit early to be headed for the showers isn't it?"

"Marion's on tha way up," he nodded to the figure only just coming out of the barn – as if that was enough of an answer.

Caleb flushed unpleasantly and Merle smirked – apparently it had been.

"Hannah still havin' those bastard ticks?" he asked mildly.

"It's _Branxton Hicks_," Caleb said scornfully and turned away.

Merle's eyes were dancing as Marion walked up to him. "Ya look like an old lady."

She poked her tongue out at him. "What and you are a spring chicken are you?'

He shrugged, turning to step in with her. "T'ere's a couple of sore spots," he admitted.

Marion cast a glance over at him. "You're having a shower?"

"When ya'r finished," he said easily.

Marion's eyes flicked over his shoulder towards the retreating figure of Caleb. She opened her mouth, but after a brief moment closed it again, giving him only a smile instead. He nodded as he leant against the wall – she walked into the shower room and made her way to the cubicle with a curtain, throwing her towel over the rail and turning on the water. It was gravity fed, so it took a while for the water to come – she pulled off her shirt and her pants while waiting. She reached around behind her and unclasped her bra, wincing at the familiar tenderness that had nothing to do with either the fading seatbelt bruise across her chest or the previous day's horseride. She reached over and tested the water, sliding down her undies and stepping under the water with a sigh.

A snore vibrated up against the wall and she smiled, feeling safer than she had in a few days.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Marion frowned, looking as she walked around the camp. There'd been other men waiting by the time she'd finished her shower and she'd only been able to exchange a nod with Merle. She'd then been busy with chores all morning and had not had any opportunity to talk any further with him. _And now I can't find him_ she thought in frustration. _He could have gone out again_ – he obviously had more freedom than she did, but she thought that he might have mentioned it if he was. _So where the hell is he?_

Benjamin jumped as he came outside of the tent – her hand in the middle of reaching for the flap.

"On Benji," she gasped, putting her hand to her chest and laughing. "Sorry!"

"That's alright Miss Marion," he grinned.

"I was looking for Merle," she explained.

A snore ripped through the open flap and a grimace crossed Ben's face. "He's in there," he said, rather unnecessarily. "He had the graveyard shift."

Marion laughed, clapping him on the shoulder and pushed past him, ignoring the slightly startled look that crossed his face before he side-stepped Dog and made his way out of the tent.

Merle lay on top of his blankets, legs spreadeagled, arms akimbo and head lying backwards off the edge of the pillow – mouth wide open. Another snore burst from his throat and Marion covered her mouth to stifle the laughter. She edge up to his bed, looking on one side and then the other – then wrinkled her nose at finding his jacket half buried underneath him. She reached over the top of him, squeezing her hand into one pocket. "Crap – of course it's the other one" she muttered and changed her grip to his waist. "Merle," she whispered, tugging gently at him. "Merle," she muttered again, tugging a little harder. "Bloody hell – would you roll over!"

Merle moved suddenly – she found her arm grasped in a vice like grip, the stump coming up around her bust – pulling her back hard against his chest.

"Wha' tha fuck," he said groggily, recognising the form within his arms. He rolled onto his right side, taking her with him, tucking his hand firmly up between her breasts and pushing his knee in between her legs.

"Merle," she protested. He breathed heavily into her ear and she sighed. Dog jumped up, turning around twice before sitting down against the front of her legs and her lips twitched as his apparent conclusion. She _could_ go to sleep she thought, she was tired from the previous day and lack of sleep, the bed was comfortable and he was warm. _But she was in the men's tent_ she thought. "Come on Merle – let me up," she said, slapping gently on his arm.

He groaned, his hand moving between her breasts, squeezing gently. She winced. "Up Merle, up," she said, slapping a little harder. She felt a hardness forming against her bottom. "No – not that," she said dryly. She grabbed at his hand and pulled, leaning forward and swinging her legs off the bed as his arm tried to pull her back down. Dog yipped as he hit the floor and Merle sighed again and curled up further, his breathing slowing again. She smiled and reached over him, grabbing his jacket and searching through his right pocket.

She wasn't sure why she'd done it – Deborah had given her supplies for her approaching cycle, but in addition to the jackets and the cloth nappies, she'd brought some pads and tampons. And she'd hidden them in Merle's jacket rather than her own. _Conspiracy theorist _she snorted. She put them into her pockets and hung his jacket up on the edge of the bookcase, smiling once more as she looked down at him, _he really looked so peaceful, almost childlike the way he cocooned himself up_ before making her way out of the tent.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"Merle, we need to talk," said Samson, his head bent over Merle's stump, a pair of tweezers in his hand. The process had been slow and painful, but he had cleared most of the discoloured skin away and the stump was glowing with fresh pink flesh. "About your sleeping arrangements."

Merle relaxed slightly, his hand moving back away from his knife. "Wha' about 'em."

"Well apparently," Samson paused. "You snore."

"I don't fuckin' snore," he growled.

"According to six witnesses – you breathe very heavily then," clarified Samson.

"So wha' if I do?" he demanded, wincing as Samson dabbed at his stump with some disinfectant.

"It's causing some problems for the others," said Samson. "You take graveyard shift – and I'm grateful, not too many of the others can stay awake through it." _Another legacy of living with Pa – between 10 and 4, when he staggered home after being kicked out of the pub or it closed on him, was the most dangerous time to be caught sleeping. _"Unfortunately, as soon as you return to the tent you wake all of the others. You are able to sleep a little after your shower, but they have other duties and are unable to recoup the hours they lose."

"Ya fuckin' kidding me?" snorted Merle.

"No, I am not," concluded Samson, putting his supplies neatly into his bag. "Elijah and I have already had to break up some fights."

"Boys will be boys," Merle dismissed the fight earlier in the day between Benjamin and David. They had almost looked serious about it and he had just been about to step in to rescue young Ben who was copping the worst of it, despite his enthusiasm, when Samson and Elijah had arrived and done just that. He hadn't seen either of them since and he mused on the type of punishment that Elijah might hand out.

"It's upsetting Elijah," said Samson and Merle recognised the tone of an argument's clincher – as bizarre as this one was.

He nodded. "Ya kickin' me out?"

"Let's just call it – rehoming," suggested Samson genially. "There is one of the single tents still available – you could move into that."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"Wha' tha fuck are ya doin'?" he demanded, standing behind her while she squatted on the ground, flipping a square cloth around. He'd come down after moving his gear, but had almost retreated when he saw she held young Jebbadiah in one arm; thankfully he was calm and quiet at the moment but his cry had some sort of quality that pierced through his eardrums and dragged his nails down whatever blackboard there was in his head. But she had looked up _and damn if she hadn't known exactly what he was thinking _and had chuckled. He'd be damned if he'd let her think he was scared of something that small, so he'd continued in to the single women's camp.

"Trying to remember how to fold these things," she said with a creased brow, shaking the cloth out again. "I used them for a combined 4 years – surely it'll come back to me?"

He watched her spread the cloth out on the ground, tugging at the corners until they were extended to their full length, then pulling up one corner and flicking the whole thing over. _It looked like that fuckin' Japense shit to him. _She gave an exclamation of frustration as her creation fell apart and stood up suddenly. "Here – take him would you?"

He almost fell over backwards as he stepped out of the way of the baby held out to him. "Get one o' tha women to 'elp ya," he said instead.

"Well there's none around at the moment," she said, still holding the baby out to him. "I need two hands to do this."

"I only got one 'and woman," he protested.

She gave him a glare. "Merle Dixon! Your arms are the size of tree trunks – you don't need a hand to hold him!" She stepped forward and pushed the baby against his right arm – unwillingly he bent his arm underneath the baby. She was right _of course_, the baby easily fit into the crook of his arm.

Merle looked down into the blue eyes of the baby and suddenly he didn't feel as tall – the baby was larger in his grip. "You hold him tight won't you Merle sweety?" said his mother's voice in his ear and he looked up. "You won't let him go?" Her glasses hit the worst of the bruising, but the sling was obvious against the pale pink of her floral dress which floated about her. "I'll look after him Momma," he said, looking again at the small bundle in his arms, his blue eyes staring back up at him with absolute trust, his tiny fingers pushed into his little mouth. "Good boy." _Of course, he'd fucked that up well and truly, hadn't he?_

Jebbadiah felt the grip around him tighten and he whimpered a little, bringing Merle back to the present with a rush. He looked in panic at Marion, still squatting on the ground with the cloth in front of her. "Woman – ya need ta take 'im back."

"Just jiggle him a little Merle," she said in a distracted tone. "Hum or sing something to him."

Merle swallowed even as the little face started to scrunch up, awkwardly bumping up and down. Jebbadiah's face cleared a little and he looked up at the face above him. His face scrunched up and Merle bounced a little harder, stepping over the log and walking to the fence. "Shut tha fuck up, shut tha fuck up, shut tha fuck up," he chanted gruffly. (1)

"Ah-ha!" exclaimed Marion as she finally finished the nappy, looking up and then around with a frown. Her eyes lit up as she saw Merle with Jebbadiah up against his chest looking out at the forest.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) Trust me – it's all in the tone, they're too young to understand the words!


	34. Chapter 34

Time warning – I seem to have taken a quantam leap in chapter size (and Author notes as well!) over the last few, and that seems to have followed through for the next few. Not sure how long the idea dirrohea will continue, but you may wish to do the toilet stop now.

Chapter 34

She woke crying, an overwhelming sadness encompassing her whole being. Dog whined, licking her face again as she gasped suddenly. It was still dark – pitch black except for the two low burning lamps, she knew she'd awoken well before dawn again. She stifled another sob and buried her face into the pillow – the last thing she wanted to do was wake up the others, but she just couldn't stop crying – and as they do, tears were begetting tears and she was crying harder. Dog bounced off the bed as she swung her legs out, simply walking out of the blankets with no regard for where they fell, and stepping out of the tent. The icy air hit her in the face, almost freezing the tears on her face, but the new ones tumbled out. She took a deep shuddering breath – but to no avail as the sadness hit her again. She turned and walked, not really knowing where her feet were taking her.

Merle yawned, rubbing his eyes as he made his way back to _his_ tent after the shift. It had been quiet again – he hadn't sighted (although given the limited light offered by the last slip of the moon, perhaps heard or smelt were the appropriate senses) any geeks on the main watch, although he'd picked up another couple on the wider sweep earlier in the day through the stock's paddock. He pushed aside the flap of the tent and sat down on the bunk, placing the gun up near the pillow so he could reach it if need be. He shrugged off the jacket that Marion had brought back from the car, then his vest and the long sleeve shirt he wore over the top of the t-shirt. He reached down and yanked at the laces of his boots, quickly tightening them into a mess and cursed, grimacing as he toed them off. He unslipped the belt and the button of his jeans, standing to push them down to the ground, leaving him only in his underwear and socks. He sat down, yawning and reached back for the blankets.

There was a noise and he tensed _bit early you pricks_ he thought with satisfaction, reaching for the gun and bringing it to his shoulder. He had suspected that the snoring excuse was merely a ruse to get him alone – to deal with him, although he had to admit to some disappointment that Samson would be party to something like that. _Come on then – see what ol' Merle can do_.

Dog bounced in through the opening and growled at the sight of Merle with the gun. "Wha' tha fuck?" he said even as the flap opened again and Marion walked in, clad in one of those all encompassing dresses that the other women wore during the day and she at night, then the flap shut and he couldn't see a damn thing.

"Merle?" she said in a choked voice.

"Here," he said, reaching over to place the gun back on the ground, his breath catching _Hold up big brother_ came a caution and he focused on what he could hear. Marion bumped into him, and he caught her as she stumbled, her head planted in the curve between his neck and shoulder and he could feel the wetness of her tears as well as hear them. "Wha's wrong?" he demanded. "Did someone – did he...?'

Marion was shaking her head, even as she sat on his knee, placing her arms around his neck. "No."

"Then why are ya cryin' woman?" he demanded.

"I don't know!" she almost wailed, her upper body shaking even as her tears intensified.

Merle blinked. _Wha' tha fuck? _Slowly and rather uncertainly, he closed his arms around her, picking up her legs and slinging them over his other leg so she was fully in his lap. She didn't protest, in fact she seemed to bury herself closer into him. "It's alright woman," he murmured. "Ya safe."

Marion cried into his shoulder, feeling him envelop her and his soft words in her ear even as he, slightly roughly, rubbed at her back. Dog licked at her hands on his back and gradually she was able to recover herself, the tears drying up slowly. But she didn't move, he was actually almost rocking her and it was soothing. She turned her head so that her forehead was against his neck, feeling the wetness of her tears on his shirt on her cheek. "Sorry about that," she murmured.

"'s alright," he muttered. "Dream?"

She nodded, her head pushing into him with the movement. "I can't remember what it was though."

"Ya got a few ta choose from," he shrugged.

"I suppose I had better go back," she suggested half heartedly after a few minutes, feeling the warmth of his arms on her back and against the side of her breast, the warmth of his chest against her right side, the warmth of his legs underneath her. Her feet were freezing though and she shivered.

"Prob'bly," he agreed, but didn't release her. She was breathing more normally now, he could feel the curve of her breast against his right arm, her breath against his neck. "Ya could stay 'ere," he proposed almost in a whisper. He felt her stiffen just a little. "Ya up before any of 'em anyway," he continued. "Ya'll never get warm again after walkin' back t'ere again."

She was still for a few moments and then she moved her legs, one at a time, off him and he released her. _Fuck. Well what did ya expect - just cause ya gave 'er a cuddle she going ta throw herself at ya?_ He hung his head then turned suddenly as she crawled behind him, up to his pillow, Dog moving out of her way and curling up into her hips, his ears pricked. Merle shook himself and turned to lay beside her, dragging up his blankets and sliding his body along next to her, wincing just a bit as her feet tucked up against his. He propped his left hand under his head and his right stump over her belly, feeling the weight of Dog against it. He had a moment for the fact that his back was to the tent flap _watch it ya pricks – tha guard Dog is on duty._

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Marion sighed. "I'm not _with_ Merle like that Joanna."

"But ... this morning?" she argued.

This morning had been a disaster. They had slept past dawn – it had been an hour after dawn that the others had realised she was missing, when the horses got in the way of the cows and they realised she hadn't been to feed them and they had looked in the communal women's tent, in the shower – and had not found her. It had been another hour before anyone had thought to ask Merle and she blushed slightly as she remembered.

Merle had stirred at Dog's growl, and she had woken with not only his gruff "I'm fuckin' sleepin' 'ere kid – it had betta be bloody important" and the removal of his arm from between her breasts (where it seemed to almost gravitate to during the night) but also the other signs of his body awakening.

"It's Miss Marion," had gasped Ben, his eyes still adjusting in the darkness of the tent from the bright sunshine outside. "She's missing!"

"No she ain't," had grumbled Merle. "Piss off and let us sleep."

Realisation had hit Ben and Marion at the same time. He had flushed a shade of peony; she had sat up abruptly with an "Oh Shit!" She flung back the blankets – Dog yelped as he disappeared under them and she tried to turn around, finding her legs and nightgown tangled with Merle's legs. Merle tried to help, ended up getting an elbow in the chest and lay back – his arms over his head, groaning as her body brushed over his and he discovered that she did not sleep in underpants. Ben turned quickly as he was given much more vision of her upper thighs than he was ready for and Dog had dashed after her, dragging Merle's blankets onto the ground before they finally dropped off as he dashed through the flap.

The women had greeted her with relief, but a multitude of questions had then to be answered. Deborah had appeared to be satisfied with her explanation of what had happened; Marion suspected though that she had gone to Ben for verification, but she had still been confused as to why it had happened. To them it would have been much simpler, and more acceptable, if she'd just woken one of them up. Marion hadn't been able to explain it, she was slightly mystified herself, but at the time it had felt right.

"I slept _next_ to him Joanna – not _with_ him," she said almost tiredly. "There's a whole world of difference between the two phrases."

"But Ben said you shared a shower!"

That was just downright wrong. She had been late to the showers, the men were just finishing and she had stayed to the side as they came out.

"Good morning _Miss _Marion," had said Caleb, his eyes greedily taking in her skivvy and jeans form. "I hear that you _slept_ well earlier today?"

"Better than in a long time," she replied edgily and his lip twitched in anger.

"Ya comin' or wha' woman?" drawled Merle. "Or am I 'olding t'is door for fuckin' Casper?"

Caleb gritted his teeth and walked past her, almost bumping her in the shoulder and she smiled at Merle. "Thanks."

"Sure t'ing sugar," he replied, his eyes on the retreating figure with hostility. "Don't get used ta it!"

"I didn't shower with him at all," she refuted now to Joanna.

"But he didn't come back until you did," Joanna argued.

Marion blinked. _Really?_ "Well he must have had something else to do," she replied.

"So you don't want to marry him?" asked Joanna.

Marion laughed. "No sweety, the thought hadn't even crossed my mind!" she said with total truth, not seeing the calculating look that entered the younger girl's eyes.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

_Oh brown Rosie, Rose of Alabamy, The sweet tobacco posey is the Rose of Alabamy_ whistled Merle, his song paused as he grunted with effort underneath the tractor. Daryl used to hate it when he whistled that song, he remembered, Y_ar in fuckin' Georgia _but he'd always had a soft spot for it _hell if Clint Eastwood liked it, it was good enough for him _(1).The spot where the belt had to go was small and almost bent around at 90 degrees. His arm was stuck up in and around the corner with a wrench wrapped around the last of the nuts. There was nothing for it – he needed one more hand than he had, perhaps two. He heard the footsteps coming towards him and lifted his head.

"Fuck," he swore as he hit his forehead on the underside of the tractor.

"Hello?" asked a hesitant voice and he frowned _didn't sound like Davd_, lifting his head more carefully this time and looking down along his body. It was a pair of female legs and he had extracted his arm and slid himself out from under the tractor before he realised that Marion would be wearing jeans now, not one of the dresses.

"Wha' ya want?" he said gruffly as he saw it was one of the kids,_ a scrawny little thing with yellow hair and blue eyes_, annoyed with himself.

Joanna smiled a little shyly. "I just came to see if you needed any help."

Merle blinked. "Ya want ta 'elp me fix tha tractor?"

"If that's what you need me to do," she nodded, then took her lip between her teeth nervously. "I can help you in lots of ways."

Merle shrugged. "Wha'ever blows ya horn girly – see if ya can't grab tha' hose for me."

"Which one?" she asked, confused but willing and stepped up onto the stool to get herself in a position where she could lean into the tractor.

Merle slid back under the tractor, pointing up with the wrench. "That one," he said. "No – to tha left. _Yar_ left girly! T'at's it – now I need ya ta 'old onto it, real tight. Got it?"

"Yes," she said, pinching the hose between her forefinger and thumb.

Merle rolled onto his side, reaching his hand up into a gap – pulled back the wrench and whacked at the belt hard.

There was a squeal above him and oil spurted everywhere, running down his arm. "Grab tha fuckin' t'in'" he yelled.

"I can't!" she whimpered.

"Fuck!" yelled Merle and retracted his hand and the wrench, sliding out from under the tractor and coming up beside her – casting only a short glance at her oil covered face and dress before almost pushing her out of the way, reaching in and grabbing the hose, kinking it to stop the flow of oil.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered.

"Wha'ever," he grunted. "Grab that wrench and git under t'ere."

"Wha...?" she stammered, her eyes as wide as a deer caught in the headlights.

"Ya wanted ta 'elp didn't ya?" he snapped. "Well ya gotta 'elp me stop that flow now."

Joanna took one look at his face and her head dropped, she took the wrench and crawled onto the ground, pulling herself under the tractor and followed his directions to disconnect the hose so that he could release it, oil dropping on her throughout the process.

"Got it," he announced and released the hose, not paying attention to where the last of the oil in the hose went as he turned back to where all the spare parts for the tractor were, sorting through to find another hose. He didn't notice Joanna walk away, a slight quiver to her lips.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"That wasn't nice," Marion reproved him as he scooped up the first mouthful of peas into his mouth.

He turned to her with a frown, passing his words and actions of the last few hours through his head. Even with her heightened sense of moral base, with the exception of missing mass again (and surely she had gotten over that by now), he couldn't figure out what she was speaking about.

His confusion must have translated around the peas and she leant in a little closer before he could speak. "What you did to poor Jo."

He leant forward a little to look around her to where the young girl sat – clean now, although there was a suggestion of black around her hairline. She was sitting upright and as he looked, seemed to shade slightly pink. He straightened back to Marion. "Wha'd I do?" he demanded.

"Making her help with the tractor," she replied. "She came back covered in grease, almost hysterical, saying that you swore and yelled at her."

Merle shrugged. "She said she wanted ta 'elp. Hell woman – ya've taken worse from me."

Marion's lips twitched. "She is only 16 Merle, she doesn't have either the confidence or the abilities to be able to deal with your ... er... _direct_ way of talking."

"So wha' tha fuck did she come and ask ta 'elp for?" he snorted, putting in another mouthful of peas.

"She has a crush on you."

Merle choked, one pea going down the wrong way, one going up the wrong way and several bursting out his mouth. Marion looked over with a slight smile as he forced the lump down his throat and coughed, reaching over to hand him his glass of water even as Samson looked up with a quizzical look. "Just went down tha wrong way," he gasped after washing down what he could, putting his glass down and reaching for Marion's, downing that as well. He cleared his throat and looked at her, as she delicately picked the mixed foods off her fork. "Ya better be fuckin' wit' me woman."

"Nope," she shook her head, chewing and swallowing before answering again, even though his hand was digging into her arm. "She thinks you are the epitome of maleness. The bees knees," she added. "It's not something to be worried about Merle, you should be flattered. Being a girl's first love – that's a big thing."

"I'll be fuckin' lynched," he whispered and Marion bit her lip at the absolute horror in his face and tone. _A little slip of a girl like that and he's as scared as a mouse of an alley cat!_

"Only if you do something about it," she soothed.

"Ya got ta git me outta this woman," he ordered, still in a low voice.

"I'm working on it Merle," she assured him. "But she is a 16 – almost 17 – year old girl. They are a force of nature in themselves – nothing you can tell them is ever better than what they already know. It will pass though – you'll just have to watch yourself for a little while."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"Out for a walk Jo?' enquired Marion lightly.

The girl flinched, looking up with a guilty expression. They were both dressed in nightgowns, although Marion wore her big jacket over hers, because the camp had retired to bed a couple of hours ago. Marion had in fact been asleep until Dog had growled lightly and she had awoken to see Joanna's bed empty. _Surely not?_ she thought, the girl wouldn't be that brazen? _Then again ..._ She had thrown off her blankets and grabbed her jacket, Dog trotting beside her as she left the tent. There was no sign of the younger girl and Marion chewed on her lip, but wth a nod had walked through the centre of the camp towards where Merle's tent sat. It had only been a matter of 30 seconds and Joanna had crept around the edge of another tent.

"I had a bad dream," she explained defensively.

"Oh sweety," exclaimed Marion with easy sympathy. "But Deborah has finished with Elijah and Samson – she came to bed a little while ago." She suppressed a grin at the girl's obvious annoyance at her interpretation of her walk and offered a smile, reaching out her hand. "Come on – I'll take you back with me."

"I'll be fine, _thankyou_," snapped Joanna and turned on her heel.

Dog whined, looking up at Marion and thumped his tail. She watched the girl out of sight, her forehead crinkled slightly. She looked at the tent next to her and reached forward, stepping in. After the slight light offered by the stars and dying moon, the tent was blindingly dark and she stood still, Dog at her heels, blinking to encourage her eyes to adjust. She couldn't hear anything though and she frowned, "Mere?" she whispered.

There was a noise right at her ear and she jumped. "Fuck woman," he growled. "Wha' ya doin' 'ere?"

"Expecting someone else?" she said playfully. He pretty much growled in her face, his presence looming immediately next to her. "It was a close run thing."

"Wha'?" he gasped. "She was comin' 'ere?"

"Yup," Marion suppressed a laugh at the horror in his voice, although it wasn't really all that funny. She did agree with him – if he was caught with Joanna in his tent, there would be hell to pay and he would not get much traction from the camp. "I've turned her around, I'll keep an eye out for her."

"Hell no," he exclaimed and grabbed her wrist. "Ya ain't leavin' t'is tent woman. I ain't 'aving no-one sayin' I am kiddy fiddler."

"No Merle," she pulled back even as she was moved a step along. "I can't sleep here tonight."

"Ya gittin' some shit because of last night?" he queried, but otherwise completely ignoring her as he almost dragged her towards the bed. "It won't happen again," _what won't _she thought in confusion. "I don't have watch t'night – I'll wake ya up in plenty o' time ta feed tha horses."

Well she had got some feedback from the other women, but nothing that she was worried about. Tonight was something different from every other night that she had slept next to him and she wasn't sure how he, how she, would deal with it. It was something only her husband had ever been privy to – she wasn't entirely sure whether she was ready to include Merle _she had hidden it from the other women because it was none of their bloody business_. While she was thinking however he had re-arranged the bed, moving the pillow and adjusting the blankets, all with his stump linked through her elbow as if he was afraid that she would bolt.

"Come on, git in," he ordered, sitting down.

Dog looked up and thumped his tail. Marion sighed and shrugged off her jacket _as long as she was careful_. At that sign of her acquiescence, Merle lay down on his left side, holding his right stump along his side as she slowly sat and then lay down next to him, pulling the blankets up over both of them with her. He tucked his arm securely around her waist and she relaxed, letting her form ease into the bed and only just touching against him. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, hearing Dog pop up onto the bed, turn around and curl up inside the curve of her hips.

Merle shuffled, moving closer to her, dislodging her leg so that his knee was between her upper thighs. He felt it on his thigh even as she tensed up suddenly. He pushed harder, "Wha' tha fuck?" he breathed and reached his stump down. She flinched away, turning her hips away from him slightly but he persisted, reaching his stump down onto her hips _there was something there!_ She squeaked and turned again, onto her back. Dog yipped as he was tipped over the edge with her movement, and Merle moved over the top of her, reaching his left hand down.

"Merle!" she gasped, reaching down and trying to capture his hand between his own as he disregarded all personal boundaries in his search. "Stop!"

"Wha' tha fuck?" he growled again. "If they've put ya in some type of chastity belt..." he finally got his hand out of hers and put it squarely between her thighs.

"Merle!" she squealed at him and shoved.

It was not what he expected and he rolled back over onto his side of the bed, Marion scrambling up and standing in front of him, her chest heaving. "Bloody hell Merle," she swore, rubbing her hands over her face. "There is just no being discreet with you is there?"

"Wha' are ya talkin' about?" he demanded, sitting up. He looked at her lower body. "Wha' 'ave they done ta ya?"

She sighed. "_They've_ done nothing' to me you twit. I have my period – _OK_?_"_

"Oh," he blinked, silent for a few moment. "Fair enough," he yawned and lay back down. "Come on t'en."

She stared at him for a moment, the edges of her mouth twitched and her eyes twinkled. _Fair enough he says_. As if there was nothing more to it. _And there probably isn't._ So she lay down against him again, fixing up the blankets over them. Merle wrapped his stump around her and drew her close, shoving his knee up between her thighs and heaved a sigh. He relaxed totally against her and after a while she relaxed her stiff stance. Dog jumped up again, sniffing at his place and turning around three times before finding a comfortable spot and laying down, his ears pricked at the tent flap.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) From The Outlaw Josey Wales.

My poor suffering husband had pretty much the same reaction as Merle to a sobbing woman at 5.30 in the morning.

I hope I've dealt with what could be a bit crass issue delicately and in character – because really it wouldn't have rung true NOT to deal with it given the er... _proximity_ of M&M's sleeping arrangements. I had fun with it anyway.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Merle yawned.

"Hard night?" asked Samson with a slight smile.

Merle looked at him hard, then nodded. "Not'in' for ya ta bible bash me 'bout." She had been restless all night, moving her legs forward, backward, never seeming to be comfortable. She had made to turn over several times, but would realise he was there and would move back, always careful to stay on her side. In the end she must have rolled though, and he must have stopped waking to her every movement, because he woke to her breath tickling at the base of his throat, her leg forward and in between his, both of her hands pressed lightly to his chest. Even in the dark of the tent he could see the peacefulness on her face, her breathing slow and deep. He shuffled a little closer, bending his head so that his forehead was pressed against hers. "Marion," he said softly.

She stirred, opening her eyes and registering his proximity with a slight start. She tipped her head back so she could look into his eyes. She smiled and he swallowed _all he had to do was lean forward_...

"Is it time to get up?" she asked.

"It's about dawn," he said noncommittedly.

"I guess I moved around a bit last night," she said, looking back down at his neck.

"Like a bowl of jelly," he confirmed. "Ya even kicked out tha dog."

She looked back up at him, then lifted her head to smile at the sight of Dog curled up against the small of Merle's back, head on his waist. Dog thumped his tail at her movement.

"Sorry," she murmured, looking back at him. She sighed and pressed her hands against his chest for a moment, rolling over and swinging her legs out of bed. She picked her jacket off the floor and swung it around her. "See you later," and she was gone, Dog bouncing after her. He hadn't gone back to sleep after that.

"When have I ever bible bashed you Merle?" asked Samson.

Merle sat back on his haunches, the wrench held loosley in his hand. "Wha' do ya stay around here for? Ya ain't a ... zealot like the ot'ers."

Simon looked at him steadily for a moment. "Elijah is my brother."

Suddenly a lot of things made sense to him and with the knowledge he could see the similarities between the two men – _same as he and Daryl, at first glance they look entirely different with exception of the colour of their eyes, but there were similarities in the way they held themselves, the way they moved, the pain hooded within those eyes._

"He started Babylon about five years ago with his wife, Deborah and her husband. Mum and Dan died and left him some money – so he bought this place, set up the solar panels and the gas system. A few others came, Aaron, Abraham, Bathsheba, Bethany, Elizabeth – most of them had other spouses then, Joanna's parents brought her as a young girl. The authorities were a little worried about them to start with, but they were harmless, they just set up this farm and would only go into town for the occasional thing that they couldn't make themselves. They offered a retreat experience – a get closer to God experience. People came, some left but some stayed – Elijah," Samson smiled. "He can be almost hypnotic when gets into the zone, people are captivated by him. The sickness hit them hard, living as they do communally. They lost a lot. When I came here they were praying for the souls of the dead that they had locked in the barn. I dealt with them – helped them bury them. Elijah has rallied them since – they have reclaimed their calm, their serenity." He shrugged. "It can be a bit much sometimes – but where else would I go? In a world like this – blood means a lot and he's all that I've got left."

"It ain't 'at bad a place ta be," Merle nodded, burying the slight feeling of envy and looked out of the door _had Daryl found some place where he could be safe, was he still battling for his life, was he still alive? _"If they'd just shut up about God and stuff."

Samson grinned "You could always marry her."

Merle snorted disparagingly, looking up and frowning as he saw that Samson was serious. "T'at sortta stuff don't mean shit now."

"It does to some people Merle," replied Samson. "It does to _these_ people."

"Well I ain't tha marrying type," he snorted again. _Besides – only a Dixon could love a Dixon._

"What if she is?" he asked.

"I told ya before," he snapped, turning back to the machine and turning the wrench forcefully, ignoring the lurch of his gut at the thought. "Tha woman can make 'er own decisions."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Marion yawned.

"You didn't sleep well Marion?" asked Deborah with some concern.

Marion shook her head "I..." she stopped herself from saying 'never do' and continued with only a slight pause "had a difficult night."

"Dreams again?" prompted Deborah.

"No," Marion replied. "It's just I couldn't get comfortable."

"_I _thought something must have been wrong with you," added Jo from her side of the table and Deborah looked up, "when your bed was empty most of the night."

"Were you up Jo?" Marion asked after a slight pause and a narrowed look at her. "I _told_ you that batch of corn looked dodgy and that you shouldn't eat it."

Jo flushed even as Deborah put her hand on her arm. "I'll get some castor oil Joanna – that'll help you."

"Why are you being so selfish?" hissed Jo as the elder woman left.

Marion looked at her coolly. "Selfish? How exactly am I'm being selfish Joanna?"

"You don't want him, but you won't let anyone else have him," replied the girl with a sulky tone.

"So you think creeping unannounced into his tent to seduce him is the best way to 'have' Merle is it?" replied Marion evenly. "Or perhaps you were planning to be caught in his tent and so force the issue?" The flush that grew up the girl's neck and across her face gave her away. "Tell me – what do you see in Merle?"

"He's handsome," started Joanna and Marion raised her brows, although carefully so that Jo didn't see it _handsome was not a word that she would use to describe Merle, although he did have a certain... something_. "He's built well" _like a tank. _"He's strong," _well obviously – he's built like a tank. _"He's experienced..." Marion turned wide eyes towards the girl, "and he's ... "

"Just that bit dangerous?" prompted Marion and Jo ducked her head. "The exact opposite of Benji?"

"Benji's a boy," almost spat Joanna _oh the cruelty of young women_ thought Marion with an inner smile, having already seen how the boy hung off the girl's every word, wish and desire. "Merle's a _man_!"

"Yes he is Jo, very much a man. And he _is _dangerous –he's a bit rough around the edges – well ragged really (1). Life hasn't been that kind to him, but instead of rolling over and letting himself get kicked about he stood up and fought it. His fight has left its scars – internal as well as external. He can't be soft, gentle and patient – and that's what you need for your first love. Someone who is going to love you, want to take care of you and will go slowly _with_ you."

"What do you care?" demanded Jo. "It's not like you love him – you said you didn't want to marry him."

"I might not be _in love_ with him Joanna, nor want to marry him – but I do ... care for the man," she continued. "We've been through a lot of things together – he's looked out for me. Merle can _choose_ whomever he wants to Jo, but I will not stand by and let him be manipulated into something because you have a school girl's crush on him."

"It's not a crush," sulked Jo. "He's the best option I have to father my children."

Marion laughed. "I wouldn't tell him that! And seriously Jo, you are not quite 17 – there's plenty of time to think about that sort of thing."

"Is there?" she asked bitterly. "What is there anymore Marion? I'm never going to go to college, I'll never get to see the world – the only men I'll ever see are these here. Most of them I have known since I was a kid. No-one is ever going to get down on bended knee for me, no-one is ever going to give me pretty rings like yours, I'll never walk down the aisle in a beautiful dress – look at the dresses that await me!"

Marion got up and pulled her in an embrace; slowly the stiff form unbended and she buried her face into Marion's shoulders and sobbed. Marion kissed the top of her head, rocking her slightly. As absurd as the child was, worrying about white dresses and fairytale weddings in today's world – and then looking to Merle to address that issue – she was just a child who deserved to be able to keep dreaming about those sorts of things.

"There's plenty of time," she repeated gently. "We came here didn't we? There'll be others – maybe there will be a nice young man who'll take a fancy to a devilish baggage with hair spun of gold and ocean eyes, who'll fight the dragons that scare his princess and carry her off on his trusty steed." Jo sighed in her arms. "Just don't let him choose Toby for his steed." The sniffs changed to giggles and she re-surfaced, her eyes glistening and her skin only more beautifully flushed with tears, which Marion noted with ruefulness.

"You really wouldn't mind if Merle..." she stopped.

Marion sighed _and it was such a beautiful speech_. "No sweety I wouldn't. But no creeping up on him anymore – ok?"

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle fell into step with her as they approached the dining room, planting his shoulder behind hers and glaring at Caleb who was holding Hannah's arm as she waddled up the stairs. He reached forward and pulled out Marion's chair – she blinked in surprise but moved in front of it, bending as he slid it underneath her. His breath sounded against her ear as he bent over to her "Is it safe?"

She smiled, glancing over at him as he sat down next to her. "She won't be making any more late night visits," she said.

"Ya sure?" Merle breathed a sigh of relief as she nodded, reaching for the plate of food that was in front of Marion and holding it while she pushed some of it onto his plate and then some onto hers. During the meal he saw Joanna looking at him once or twice and he leant back into Marion. "I thought ya said I was safe?" he whispered as the table broke up.

"Well," she winced, pausing to let the young girls leave first, noting the glance that Joanna gave them both. "I did what I could – you're safe from late night visits, not necessarily from her attention though."

"Wha' tha fuck?" he burst out in a whisper. "Ya mean..."

"Yes, she still has a crush on you," she nodded. "She _is _a 16 year old girl Merle – she's not going to listen to me, she has to find these things out for herself."

Merle muttered something uncomplimentary and she smiled, patting his arm. "I'll protect you Merle."

"Damn straight ya will," he grabbed her arm in the crook of his stump, holding her close to his side. "Ya can come back to me tent."

"Merle, I can't do that," she protested.

"I got watch again t'night," Merle continued. "Ya only got ta stay until 10."

"Merle," she protested again, this time pulling him to a stop.

He looked at her for a moment. "Look – git whatever shit ya need. Just come back ok?"

She sighed _only Merle could reduce the awkwardness of such a moment to such bare terms_ and nodded, he released the pressure on her arm and she turned to head towards the single women's camp.

Merle made his way over to the tent, nodding once as Samson confirmed his watch commencing at 10pm. He picked up a log to throw on his fire, but a streak through the night sky made him pause. He looked up and for almost a full minute stared up at the sky, trying to figure out exactly how long they had been at the camp. The days had sort of merged into one big blur of activity, but he figured it for mid November. He placed the log back on the ground and stepped into his tent, grabbing the blankets off the bed and draping them over his shouler. He stopped suddenly as he came face to face with Joanna at his tent.

Joanna smiled at him, not realising that he was appraising her as he would a cut snake. "This is for you Mr Merle," she said softly. He eyed the bundle suspiciously, but it was nothing more than an oilskin. "It's going to rain soon – you'll be needing it."

"How ya know that?" he queried almost despite himself. The sky was as clear as, there was no hint of rain in the air.

"Aaron's knee has been aching all day," she explained. "We've found that it's the best barometer possible."

"Hmph," acknowledged Merle. A belated thought came to him. "T'anks Miss Joanna."

Joanna ducked her head a little. "You're welcome Mr Merle. Be safe tonight – God bless."

_Fuck_ he thought as she walked away. He tossed the oilskin to the side of his tent flap and continued outside to his now almost dying fire. He stacked the blankets on the ground and looked up in the sky, turning around until he located the constellation he was looking for. He heard the distinctive duo of sounds that was Marion – her soft, evenly paced stride punctuated by the trotting footfalls of Dog.

She had changed into her nightgown, but had put her jacket over the top of it and wore a pair of tracksuit pants underneath. Merle looked around at her and then took a closer glance. "Are t'ose my sweats?" he demanded, having searched through his clothes and his returned washing extensively this morning looking, and failing to find, those exact pants.

Marion blushed slightly. "Um yes they are – I kept them after washing them. I only had jeans," she replied. "Do you want them back?"

_What and do his head in?_ "Na, ya can 'ave 'em, I've got anot'er pair. But no more nicking me clothes."

Marion held up her fingers. "Scout's honour!" She looked at the blankets on the ground. "We're camping out?"

Merle nodded. "Got somet'ing to show ya," he pointed to the ground and she sat, he folded himself down next to her. "It's a bit early yet – that best show will be about dawn."

"Northern Lights?" she said hopefully, looking up into sky, her hand burying itself in Dog's hair as he curled up in her lap. "I never really got to see them properly."

Merle didn't answer, leaning back on his elbows and looking at her profile in front of him. "Samson and Elijah are brot'ers," he said.

She turned to him. "Really?" He watched as she made the same connections he had – the similarity between the two men and they way they interacted now blindingly obvious. "Well that explains some things," she nodded, echoing his own thoughts.

"Elijah started t'is place 5 years ago," he added and told her what Samson had told him. As he talked, with Marion asking questions and sometimes suggesting answers to them herself, she lowered herself onto the ground next to him, lacing her fingers underneath her head. It pushed her bust up in a very distracting way and Merle lowered himself further on the ground, his stump resting on his chest with his left hand crossed under his head, hearing Dog change position to lie along next to her.

A streak across the sky caught her attention and her words died as she turned towards it. _May my family always be_ she stopped the automatic wish as the significance of what she was asking came to her. Another streak flashed across the sky _May this camp always be safe and healthy_. There was another streak and she turned her head to Merle, seeing that he was watching her with a slight tease of a smile. "What's happening?"

"It's the Leonids," he explained. "A meteor shower from Leo the Lion. It'll probably only give ya 10-15 an hour and ya need to wait until after midnight ta git tha best show but ya should see some before ya 'av to go ta sleep." She had turned back to the sky and as if just to contradict him a burst of about five meteors buzzed through the sky, lighting up on their curve across them. "The '66 storm 'pparently send thousands per hour – me Mum's pa told me he felt like 'e was on one of t'em Star Wars ships with the stars flyin' past 'em so fast. Tha last one wasn't nearly so impressive but it was still was wort' lookin' at." _Even when outta ya mind wit' drugs._ "T'is one shouldbe betta – the Perseids in August yielded a couple hundred per hour and tha two of t'em are the best each year."

"Wow," she breathed as another pair of meteors flashed past.

"Then t'ere was the Draconoids – t'ey didn't do much t'is year, tha Orionoids were slow but t'ere was some stayers in it t'is year. Ya'd 'ardly know tha Taurids were 'appening – t'ey came so slow."

"How long will this go on?" she asked, _eyes as wide as a kid in a candy shop _and he felt a burst of ... _something_ at showing her something new.

"Only tonight," he said and she sighed in disappointment. "Tha will be another one mid way t'rough December, then ya'll 'ave to wait 'til next autumn – but it should be a good one, it'll be a new moon so there'll be a dark sky for it."

"We need some popcorn," she said as another burst came over.

He could almost smell it, the freshly popped smell rising from the bowl in front of him slowly waking him up, perched on the roof of the little house, snuggled up in jacket, blanket, beanie and gloves, pressed between her legs. "See Merle baby," she'd whisper in his ear. "That's Gemini's scales – they balance out life for us. Whenever something bad happens, something good will happen." _Gemini was an unbalanced bitch in his opinion._

Marion felt the shiver go through him and looked up at him, his face was set and she frowned. He seemed to come aware of his surroundings and looked down at her, offering a slight smile. She smiled back and shuffled a little closer – he reached down and dragged the blanket over the top of them.

10pm came far too early, but he dragged himself up reluctantly. "Ya can go to bed now woman."

"Hmm," she nodded tiredly, still watching the meteors lighting up the sky, her hand curled in Dog's hair at her waist.

"Don't fall asleep," he cautioned. "Ya'll freeze."

"I won't," she assured him.

But as the first drops of icy rain hit him on the head and he returned to his tent briefly to get the oilskin that Joanna had left him, there she was, curled up in a ball under the blankets with Dog pressed against her. "Woman," he growled, placing his rifle down and bending over next to her. She looked so peaceful though, plus the rain was starting to get heavier, so he squatted next to her form and inserted his arm under her shoulders and legs, bringing her and the blankets up in one big heap – Dog only narrowly avoiding being scooped up. He walked backwards through the flap of his tent _he wouldn't want to imagine what'd happen if he tried to take her back to hers _and laid her on his bunk. She murmured something and snuggled in further and he paused for a moment. Dog jumped up, turning around twice and lying in the curve of her hips – his ears pricked. Merle turned around, pulling on the oilskin and picking up the rifle before stepping into the rain.

She wasn't there when he got back, drenched despite the oilskin, after his watch – but his sweats were and he fell asleep to a slight suggestion of her odour.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) Credit to Meggo929 for the line - it was a great line, I'll split my earnings with you.

The website I derived this information off looked reliable enough... although I have used 2012 information and brought the Leonids forward a bit.


	36. Chapter 36

The first two sections of the chapter were just meant to be a lead in for the third section – but they just sort of grew all by themselves and the third section had to move to the next chapter. Hopefully you like them – let's call them character development because I'm not too sure they add much to the plot. I had fun though.

Chapter 36

"It's time to wake up sugar," he breathed into her ear.

Marion groaned. "Do I really have to?"

"If ya want ta feed 'em horses before tha ot'ers are down for milkin'," he almost purred into her ear. "Of course, ya can always stay." This time it wasn't his breath on her ear, it was his teeth – gently grabbing the lobe and tugging just a tiny bit.

Marion felt the shiver all the way down to the base of her spine and she grabbed her lip firmly between her teeth.

Emboldened perhaps by the absence of a reprimand he moved his lips over her ear again and then down her neck, tasting and teasing with his teeth _how was she going to explain those?_ she wondered as he raised himself up on his elbow and rolled her to be able to look down at her, his eyes burning with desire. She reached out her hand, gently cupping his face and rubbing her fingers through the 3 day stubble (he never managed to get clean shaven, but there was a definite length adjustment process) and onto his top lip. His mouth opened as she traced onto his bottom lip, drawing her finger in and sucking it, igniting a fire within her belly.

Marion snapped awake and for a moment froze. Merle's arm twitched against her breasts in a way that meant that he was in the process of waking up and she took a breath. _Crap_ she thought with a slight blush, even as the warmth in her belly started to dissipate. She shouldn't be surprised at the finger thing after the previous night _the spoon Marion – use the bloody spoon!_ but the rest of it _where the hell had that come from? _Her lips twitched suddenly _at least this time she didn't actually groped him_. She took a deep breath and Dog turned around, thumping his tail as he realised that she was awake, and Marion extracted her hand from under the blankets to give him a pat.

Her movement was enough to wake Merle, she felt his arm tighten around her chest, his leg drive that little bit harder up between her thighs and _other_ _parts_ of his body awake. He took a deep breath, releasing it against her ear and she resisted the urge to giggle. "It ain't rainin'" he murmured groggily.

Marion blinked and realised he was right. For the first time in three days, during which it had rained, and rained and rained, then sleeted and rained some more, there was no sound of water on the tent. It was a bit early to see though whether the sun was out for the duration or whether Mother Nature was just taking a breath. Still, it would be nice to be able to do something without getting drenched and she tapped lightly against his arm to make him let her out. The camp was awash – there had been a late night panic in the single women's tent when Mary had stepped up out of bed and hit water, the pond was overflowing through the stock yard and what had been a leaky roof on the barn had only yesterday given out underneath a particularly hard storm of ice leaving a gaping hole right above the hay store. Everyone had pitched in to help, but the rain had been relentless during these repairs, leaving everyone with few available dry clothes. She and Merle were slightly better off that the others, who really only had the three outfits, although she was now not only putting on his _sweats_ but also one of his long sleeve shirts that she had recovered for him from the first traffic jam. All of her jeans were so wet as to not be wearable and while she'd been able to dry a couple of her singlet tops, the skivvies had been more resistant to tent drying and the icy rain had not made for singlet wearing weather, especially after the accident which had resulted in her jacket being drenched. Merle of course had scandalised the women by bursting into their tent and fairly throwing the clothes at her growling for her "to put some fuckin' dry clothes on before ya freeze" but even Deborah had acknowledged that he had a point.

_And really – they were already pretty scandalised_ she thought, lacing her shoes and standing, pulling the blankets over the now again sleeping Merle. It was still very early she realised once outside, she decided she would head down to the barn first – the horses wouldn't object to being fed early – to avoid disturbing too many of the women getting her toiletries bag. _Really, should just bring it up here – she'd pretty much moved _in. She had spent every night with him since the meteor shower. He'd had watch on all of the nights and the first night they'd spent half of it trying to put in a makeshift trench to take away the _river_ flowing through the single woman's tent, so while Deborah may purse her lips somewhat, even she had realised that there was nothing _inappropriate_ going on. They were in fact so exhausted each night that they'd barely hit the pillow before they were asleep, Merle dragging himself out of bed for watch and then crawling in quietly at the end of his shift. _He did try not to wake her_ she reflected as she walked down to the stables, but while his arm always started over her waist, by some instinct it migrated up and into the valley of her breasts as he was falling asleep – and despite the jacket and oilskin he was normally a bit wet and always cold.

Last night the storm had been particularly violent –the others had stayed in the dining room waiting for the especially heavy shower to pass and Marion had moved into the kitchen to teach Bathsheba her Anzac biscuit recipe (1). Merle had come in at the end of the process, wondering _wha' tha hell she was doin' _and getting a taste of the batter. She blushed again, _what exactly had she been thinking? _She had thought nothing of offering her finger to him – _as if he was... _her thought and her physical progress halted at the same time at the sight of the figure standing at the pig sty.

"Hannah?" she said softly.

The woman turned, her face streaked with tears and Marion hurriedly walked over to her.

"What's up sweety?" she asked, putting an arm around her.

"Chloe and Gabriel," Hannah whispered back, burying her head into Marion's shoulder. "I've only got two months left."

Marion smiled into her hair, but her voice was comforting. "No no sweety – Caleb won't leave you." _Although..._ she thought unwillingly. She had been shocked to come back after a shower a couple of days ago to find the tent a hive of, damp smelling because of all the clothes hanging in a vain attempt to dry, activity. 'What's going on' she had asked as she had made her way back to her unused bed to place her toiletries bag on her shelf, sensing but ignoring Deborah's hard look. 'Chloe's moving back in,' Joanna had replied happily. Marion had turned in surprise 'What? What happened with Gabriel?' 'Nothing,' had said Joanna, 'they're just finished'. Marion had wanted to ask for more details, but Chloe had walked in then with a pile of timber and Marion had closed her mouth, moving to assist her put the crib together. Merle hadn't thought too much of it, but had made a comment that at least by staying with him she was getting away from the _screamin' brat_.

"Yes he will," sobbed Hannah. In Marion's mind that left Hannah better off, but while she held her tongue something must have translated through because Hannah suddenly started talking. "I know you don't like him, but before all this he was such a gentle soul. So full of love and kindness. He was changed by what he had to do in the barn that day – he became cold and hard. But I still love him!"

"I'm sure he loves you too," soothed Marion, rubbing at her back. She felt the woman tense up, stiffening for several seconds. "Hannah darling – are you in labour?" Hannah nodded into her shoulder. "How far apart are they?"

"Still ten minutes or so," replied the woman. "They started sometime about midnight I think, I wasn't sure whether they were actually the real thing after all those Branxtons – but they're starting to hurt a little – that's the real thing isn't it?"

"I think so," nodded Marion _no wonder she was feeling emotional_. "This is _good_ news Hannah, don't be worried about it. Deborah got Chloe through it – you'll be fine."

"But what if my babies are like yours?" she sniffed, lifting her head up. "What if I can't do it?"

"You will be able to do it," Marion encouraged. "There won't be any problems. I'll be right here with you – ok?"

Hannah nodded. "What should I do now?"

Marion laughed. "Exactly as per normal for a while yet sweety – nothing happens quickly with a first baby, so why don't you start by helping me feed the horses?"

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle swallowed, hardly tasting the sweet mixture as it went down, his eyes locked with her wide brown eyes, her hand still in his. He stepped forward, dropping her hand and wrapping his around the back of her head, his stump tugging her waist into him – so she could feel the strength of his desire – before moving down to her ass and lifting her up into him. Her mouth opened under his, he could taste more Anzac biscuit mixture, feel it as her other hand came up and threaded through his hair. He moaned as her tongue reached out to his, then boldly swept past his to enter his mouth, and he moved his hand off her backside to cup her breast, running his thumb over the tightening peak. _ERRR –ya cut that off remember brother? _

Merle sat up suddenly, the blankets dropping from his torso to land in a heap in his rather prominent lap. "Fuck" he growled, realising quite suddenly that not only was it a dream but that he was alone. She'd slipped out again without him really realising it _she's fuckin' ashamed of ya brother_. "No she ain't," he growled, rolling out of bed, wincing as abused muscles were stretched.

He'd gone to bed the first night early, tired after a full day of digging around the upgradient boundary of the camp. They'd started with the tractor, but the work had pushed the machine past its tentative equilibrium and there'd been a spectacular bang, a puff of smoke and it had died. They'd pushed the tractor back to the shed, young Naomi steering while he and some of the other men pushed _and damn if they didn't end up going uphill_. After he'd returned to finish digging the trench which _some bright _spark had started at over a yard in depth, he'd returned to the tractor almost the entire day, shovelling down the sandwich that Joanna had brought him and only coming in for dinner when his lamp ran out of fuel. He'd been half asleep by the time that he heard her footsteps, she'd paused a step inside of the tent – he'd flung back the blankets and she'd walked over to him, not saying anything as she slipped in next to him, laying down and bringing the blankets over both of them, Dog curled up in the curve of her hips. Of course that night they'd all thought the Great Flood was coming again and none of them had gone back to bed because they were still digging when dawn arrived. The next night he'd waited up and sure enough, she'd come back to his tent after her nightly abloutions. They'd both been so exhausted, from the lack of sleep and the heavy work of the day before, and had fallen into a deep sleep very quickly. He'd come back from watch expecting her to be gone, but she was still huddled amongst his blankets. He'd peeled off his wet clothes and towelled himself off as best he could, then slid behind her, being careful not to let too much of him touch her. But she'd moved back into him, offering her warmth and he'd fallen asleep quickly. She'd done the same this morning as he'd come in from watch – but last night, _tha whole fuckin' day_, had been different.

The ice storm had been sharp and violent – those milking the cows had barely had a second's notice before the section of roof had cracked and tumbled down amongst them. There had been minor injuries, some trodden on by the terrified cows, others having fallen or been bumped, others been hit by the balls of ice that came through the hole. Marion had escaped the worst of it, having still been with the horses, but she was the first on hand to help with the rescue and then the transfer of the hay from where it was getting wet, and therefore set up to spoil, into a secure area of the barn. He, after helping move the cows back out into the paddock, had ended up on the roof in the subsequent torrential rain – being one handed he couldn't manoeuvre the replacement sheets up from the ground so he did the hammering while young Ben had held the sheets in place. They'd been saturated by the time they'd been ready to come down, but then the ladder had been bumped and had crashed into splinters. He'd covered young Ben as well as he could for the half hour before they'd figured how to get a rope up to them and he'd secured it for them to slide down. They'd both been hustled up to the showers, Ben's eyes widening and then dipping at the site of the scars all over his body, before being encased in the warmest and driest clothes that could be found in the camp. He remembered Marion's smile at him as he'd been surrounded by those trying to give him something warm to eat, something warm to drink and to place blankets all over him. He couldn't remember the last time that so many people had cared about him and she had seen his sense of overwhelming – her smile had been enough to make him take a breath and let the people fuss just a little while longer.

The storm had continued in the night and most of them had lingered longer than normal in the dining room, waiting for a break to get to the tents. He'd watched with a half smile as Joanna and Naomi had performed an intricate dance with Ben playing guitar and the accompanying clap of hands and stamping of feet. The music had changed and more had gotten up to join in the dancing – he'd seen Joanna look at him and in a panic had withdrawn to the kitchen where Marion had taken the dishes. He'd found her with her fingers in her mouth, eyes half closed as she pulled one back out. She'd become aware of his presence and grinned at his demand. "I made Anzac biscuits," she explained.

"Ya made wha'?" he demanded.

She turned around, looking at the bowl in the sink full of water and the biscuits in the oven, and then back at him. She'd seemed to hesitate, but she stepped forward and offered him her hand – covered in batter. "Anzac biscuits," she'd said and he took her hand, leaning forward. "They made them at home and sent them to the soldiers during the first world war. They were the only thing that would keep..." her voice tailed off as his mouth covered her little finger, his tongue cupping it as he dragged his lips and teeth over it to remove the clumps of sticky mixture. His eyes had locked with her wide brown eyes, feeling the explosion of heat and immediate reaction in his groin, and he leaned forward. Then Bathsheba had walked in and she'd quickly retrieved her hand from his, turning as he had walked out – going directly out to watch.

_The biscuits were actually good_ he thought as he flung the blankets off him, welcoming the coolness of the air on his heated body. He'd been given a couple during his watch and while they were crisp around the edge they'd been chewy in the middle, almost a full meal in themselves. He had been uncertain when he'd come to bed, but she'd been there, _tha fuckin' snowlflake_ curled up in her lap and growling half heartedly at him, fast asleep. He'd crept in, but she'd stirred and with a sleepy curse over the temperature of his body had pushed against him, wrapped his arm up in hers and then shivered them both to warmth.

"She ain't," he said again, pulling on his pants and with now practised ease pulling up the zipper, doing the button and slipping the belt into place. He grimaced at the sight of the circular bruises on his arms as he pulled on an overshirt – his back no doubt would look like a demented checkerboard. He sat to pull on his boots, they were still wet – one thing that there wasn't many spares of. _Then what is she brother?_ Merle paused _He had no fuckin' idea_. He wanted her, that much was obvious to both of them and for half a second last night he'd thought perhaps she wanted him. Then she had backed away from him – he'd noticed that her fingers had automatically gone to her wedding rings. But then she'd come back to him, trusting him absolutely to stick to the line they had set up– _who the fuck had ever done that _he wondered. _Me brother – and look where that got me. _"Fuck," he spat and stood. _Travelling companions_ he decided finally _that's what they were_.

The last bit of dawn light greeted him outside the tent and he realised he was up a bit earlier than normal, out of habit he cast his eye down the paddock, cocking his brow when he saw a second, very pregnant figure out with her amongst the horses. _She'd be a while_ he realised and with a thought to warding off the cold that was seeping in through his wet boots, he turned to go to the kitchen, knowing that he'd find a cup of hot something readily enough.

He heard Samson's voice as he got closer and then Elijah said his name in an almost upset tone and Merle stepped to the side, easing up closer to the door.

"They were not suitable Gor... Elijah," said Samson in a firm tone. "They wouldn't have fitted in here. _And _there were no women with them."

Merle heard Elijah sigh. "All right then. Did you deal with them? Do we need to be worried?"

"They were dealt with," said Samson in a tone that gave Merle a slight surprise – it was cold, hard.

"We need some more people Samson," said Elijah in frustration. Merle could almost hear him flapping his hand. "Oh I don't doubt you, if you said they were not suitable then I believe you. But it doesn't change the situation, we need more people here, we just don't have enough!"

"We can't have more people until we have more supplies," said Samson. "The basic supplies are starting to run out – this wet weather has shown us that we're not ready for a proper winter."

"We have enough food," started Elijah.

"Yes – but not enough clothes," interrupted Samson. "Not enough rain coats, jumpers, jackets, socks, _toilet paper_." There was a pause. "We need to go into town."

"No," said Elijah firmly.

"I will take some of the men with me, the ones that can handle themselves. I thought I'd take Merle too."

This time it was two voices that said "No" and Merle realised with some shock that Caleb was in there with them, who added "Merle is not trustworthy."

"He's done more for this camp in the last couple of weeks than you have _Caleb_," came Samson's voice and Merle felt vindicated – he wouldn't have pegged Caleb for Samson's kind of man. "He's been there before, he knows what we'd be facing and he can handle himself."

"Samson," Elijah said softly and in his mind Merle could see Samson subsiding. "Caleb has a point – I'm not saying that Merle hasn't been as valuable an asset as you thought, but he is not one of _us_. I want you to take Aaron, Gabriel, Adam and Jacob. Perhaps it would do young Benjamin some good as well – but use yor discretion please Samson, I want him back whole."

Merle moved quickly as he heard the unmistakable sounds of the meeting breaking up. He walked swiftly down towards the barn, not exactly sure what he'd heard and wanting to talk it over with Marion. He saw her walking out of the barn, an arm around the other woman – he was too far away to tell which one it was _all dressed tha fuckin' same_ – but she was headed in the wrong direction and he paused. She looked up and with a short hand signal told him _no_. He hesitated, but she had placed her hand back into the other woman's and didn't look back at him.

_Fuck_.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) a basic google search found (all the w's) bestrecipes _dot_ com _dot_ au – which looks pretty much the same as mine, although I don't use the coconut and my version specifies boiling water. There's probably a few other versions out there. I pull mine out _exactly _after 20mins to get the desired chewy effect (they will be floppy while still hot, but when they cool...!). Go on, give it a whirl.


	37. Chapter 37

Huge chapter – had the beginning and end, but got stuck on the journey. So we've done a few loop d'loops – hope you're up for the ride.

Chapter 37

The screams started mid morning. The first one he heard had him starting up out of bed and he was out of the tent with the rifle in his hand before he realised he was half naked. "Wha' tha fuck?" he demanded of David, seeing him walking nearby totally unconcerned.

"Hannah's in labour," replied the young man, hiding a smirk at the sight of him.

"Is someone killin' her or what?" demanded Merle.

David laughed, albeit a bit grimly. "You'll think so by the end of it."

"How long is it goin' ta take?" he demanded.

"Chloe went for five hours screaming like a banshee," replied David.

_Fuck_. "Betta increase tha guard on the fence," said Merle and David looked at him in puzzlement. "Tha geeks'll come from miles wit' tha racket drawin' 'em in." He turned back into his tent to get dressed even as another scream cut through the air.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"You have to be bloody kidding me," snapped Marion, pausing at the doorway of the tent.

Deborah, Mary and Bathsheba looked up in surprise, Hannah let her head drop backwards, releasing her grip on Chloe's hand and taking in sobbing breaths.

"She's trying to have her a baby and you have her in those things?" disgust dripped off her voice as she took in Hannah flat on a bed with her legs up in the air, held by some stirrups (and literally too – she wondered randomly who had made up this contraption). "As if she doesn't have enough to worry about – you're making the baby go _uphill_?"

"Please Marion," started Deborah. "This is how I gave birth to my children, how Chloe ..."

"All very well and good Deb," interrupted Marion. "Women used to sniff arsenic too to get their skin nice and white. How's the back pain honey?"

"Killing me," sobbed Hannah. "It's getting worse."

"I'm guessing that means the baby is facing the wrong way," Marion turned back to Deborah, lowering her tone. "Both mine did too – I was told to walk around as much as I could."

"Surely it's worth a try Deb?" said Chloe from the bed. "She's hurting so bad."

Deborah paused for only a moment and then nodded. Marion turned and quickly unthreaded Hannah's feet from the stirrups and helped her sit up, then swing her legs over. A contraction hit her and she screamed into Marion's shoulder. "Come on honey – up," she urged and with Chloe on the other side, managed to get her to her feet. "Let's go."

"Outside?" gasped Hannah.

"Why not? Lots more room to walk out there, some fresh air and sunshine."

"But everyone will know," she said.

Marion's eyes took on a twinkle. "Sweety – there isn't a soul within a klick that doesn't know right now."

"Ohhh," groaned Hannah, her face flushing a little.

"'s'ok," grinned Marion. "I was a screamer too – I needed throat lollies after my two. Come on – I think we should try a hot shower on your back – it might ease it a little." She turned to Chloe and lowered her voice. "When the next one starts I want you to push as hard as you can right into the lower back."

"Why?" asked the woman.

"Your body can only feel pressure or pain – not both. You might not be able to press hard enough to take all the pain away, but you might put a dent in it."

Chloe nodded and together they helped Hannah out of the tent, the others following. The sunshine and breeze hit her and she took a big breath, biting down as another contraction hit her. Only the last few seconds forced a sound from her throat, whether because being upright or Chloe's pressure was lessening the pain or because she was embarrassed, Marion wasn't sure but she took it as a good sign. She turned around and Deb nodded at her, Bathsheba coming out of the tent with a towel.

Merle came to an abrupt halt at he was faced with the trio. "Should she be outside?" he asked.

"She's having a baby Merle Dixon, it's not like she has leprosy," replied Marion in a very cold voice and he swallowed any retort that he might have made. "Do you know where her husband is?"

Merle shrugged.

"Would you please go and make a very strong suggestion to him that he comes and supports his wife while she gives birth to _his _baby?" she continued in an icy tone.

"Oh no, no," gasped Hannah. "If he doesn't want to come..."

"Hannah sweety," interrupted Marion. "He had a part in this, the least he can do is get his hand squeezed until some of the little bones break."

Hannah gasped out a little laugh, closing her eyes as another contraction hit her. Chloe winced as her hand was squeezed. Marion met Merle's eyes and he nodded, turning to walk back up the fenceline.

He found Caleb in the single men's tent with Goliath, Daniel and Emmanuel. They looked around quickly as he walked in, but relaxed, passing the bottle of whiskey around them. "We thought you was Abraham," laughed Emmanuel, taking a swig from the bottle before holding it out to him.

Merle's lip curled and he shook his head once. "That's your woman screamin' out t'ere Caleb."

"Yeah, so what of it?" snarled the man.

"She's havin' ya kid."

"Wish she'd fuckin' hurry up about it t'en," he muttered. "She's making enough noise."

"Why don't ya come and 'elp 'er out?" suggested Merle. "She'd prob'bly like 'er _husband_ there, ya know."

Caleb snorted. "That's women's business. I think I'll just sit here and get drunk thanks while the boss is out."

Merle's eye twitched and Daniel put down the bottle, standing and moving behind his chair. "I ain't asking a second time Caleb."

"What you going to do hick?" demanded Caleb, standing and thrusting out his chest. "You going to make me?"

The smell of alcohol was overwhelming, the interior of the pub bleak and hazy from all the smokers. Some poor excuse for a guitarist was twanging away in the corner, not that anyone was really taking much notice. He threaded his way through the legs, dodging as some drunk almost fell into him, knocking into someone else and getting cursed at, ducking the cuff that came at his head with almost contemptuous ease. He recognised one of his father's cronies and ducked under an overworked and overexposed waitress to head towards him. Sure enough he could soon hear his father, cheering on a horse running in the far top corner of the bar and he ducked as the betting tickets got thrown to the floor with a vicious curse. "Pretty Smart Son be fucked," snarled Dixon senior. "He'd be faster runnin' at Jefferson!"(1) There was a chorus of laughs at his wit – they were all well and truly tanked then Merle realised. He threaded through the crowd.

"Hey Dix," murmured old Arthur behind the bar and Merle found himself looking directly up into his father's ice cold steel blue eyes, the exact mirror of his own.

"Wha' tha fuck ya doin' 'ere boy?" he demanded belligerently.

"Momma's not back yet," he answered.

"So?"

"I thought something might be wrong. Can we go and see her?" he asked.

His father laughed, a cold hateful sound when he knew that he was stronger than you. "She spat you out didn't she? She'll get t'is one out too – eventually," his cronies laughed at him. Merle ducked his head, turning to leave when his arm was caught in a vice like grip. "Where ya goin' boy? Stay – 'ave a drink wit' ya old man, celebrate tha birt' of ya baby brot'er."

"Dixon," that was Arthur, in a warning tone.

"Oh come on Artie," his father could turn on the charm at the drop of a hat. "I'm just going to make a man of tha boy."

He'd still been hung over when Nanna had finally taken him into see his Momma and baby brother, she hadn't said anything, but just hoisted him up and supported his arms as he'd held the tiny bundle – whose eyes were also the steel blue of the man who was their father (2).

Marion opened the door of the shower block and blinked. "Merle," she sighed as she looked at the marks around Caleb's face and those on Merle's knuckles. There was a scream, which echoed throughout the block. "Why don't you see if you can help your _wife_ Caleb," she said pointedly. Merle gave him a helping hand and he staggered a bit as he disappeared into the steam.

"Can't ya do anything about t'at noise?" Merle leant in. "We've killed five geeks already."

"What she is trying to do Merle is equivalent to you pissing out an orange." She smirked with some satisfaction as he paled. "Plus I think the baby's is still facing the wrong way. It hurts – a lot."

"Wha' 'bout t'ose drugs we brought back from town?" he suggested. "T'ere was 'eaps of painkillers amongst 'em."

"And if any of us knew which ones wouldn't cross the placenta and hurt the baby we would be pumping them in as quickly as we could," she assured him, rubbing her face with her hands.

"Whatta ya need?" he asked simply.

She looked up with a half smile. "Samson."

He nodded. "Ya got it."

Joanna overtook him on the way down to the stables, helping him catch and bridle King, standing out of the way while he drew up the girth. She ran ahead of him to open the gate but paused as Abraham came to stand in front of the gate.

"You can't go out there Merle," he told him.

"Tha woman needs Samson," he returned.

"He'll be back in a few hours," replied Abraham calmly. "Elijah doesn't want anymore people leaving camp."

"Can ya not 'ear tha' man?" demanded Merle as another scream floated through the air. "She can't wait t'at long."

"And how would you get him back any quicker?" demanded Abraham, his confidence shaken a little.

"As tha crow flies," replied Merle. "King'll bring 'im back 'ere quicker than a car by road."

Abraham was clearly torn, then he shook his head. "Elijah said..."

Merle had already glanced at Joannaand _bless her little ass _she had realised what he wanted – she slipped the catch off the gate and flung it wide: with a kick to his ribs King sprung through it like a racehorse, galloping away across the paddock as Abraham looked on helplessly and Joanna jumped up and down clapping her hands and squealing with excitement.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

The hoofbeats galloped almost on top of them before they were aware, but as soon as one heard them, they all did, except for Hannah whose strength had almost given out. Deborah didn't look around from her position next to the labouring woman, keeping their foreheads together as the older woman maintained a constant stream of prayer. Chloe was jolted back into her duties by the beginning of another contraction – Hannah had no voice left to scream, but her entire body shook with the racking pain that drained the energy from her and she clung to Deborah as if drowning, tears rolling down her face. Marion gave Joanna a glance and the young girl sprang up, opening the tent flap and stepping out as King skidded to a halt, his flanks foaming and sweat dripping off him everywhere. Samson hit the ground with a thud, tossing the reins at Joanna and striding in the flap that Marion still held open. He took in the scene in front of him quickly and turned, his mouth open as he rolled up his sleeves – but he shut it again as he saw the towel, soap and hot water next to bottles, vials and syringes.

"Merle?" asked Marion quietly as she handed him the towel.

"Coming back in the truck," replied Samson. "They will be here by about dark."

She nodded and turned with him, reaching out to gently touch Deborah's shoulder and with a start the older woman looked up and, seeing Samson, moved to the side of Hannah.

"Am I going to die Samson?" whimpered Hannah.

Samson smiled. "Of course not Miss Hannah. You're going to become a mother tonight." He turned to Marion. "Can you handle this?"

She gritted her teeth. "I will."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle watched her drag herself towards him, his fire burning in cheery defiance to the weariness in her very being. She lowered herself to the ground next to him and took a sigh. "A boy, 8 pound 6" she said quietly as Dog settled against her, laying his head on her lap for her to stroke. Then she smiled, "John."

He snorted, remembering her earlier theory – 'I think that both Jesus and Judas are out of bounds, so it would be Joseph if a boy – no, John would come first. The girl, well something starting with N, O maybe – I don't know my bible well enough.' He'd looked at her with a puzzled frown and she'd laughed at him, 'what you don't reckon someone is working through an alphabetical list of bible names?' "How's the mum?" he prompted after a pause.

"She'll be ok – Samson had to C-section her." Marion yawned. "She was just too exhausted and the baby was going into distress."

"I notice tha flea bag out and 'bout," he said coldly.

Marion waved her hand. "Oh he was worse than useless," she said dismissively. "He was going to faint over the sight of blood. I pissed him off before we got out of the shower." She sighed. "I should go and see if Jo needs a hand."

"She's fine," said Merle. "I checked on tha 'orse when I got back. She had 'im all washed down and rugged in tha stable for tha night."

"How'd you go?" she asked, leaning her head back against the log.

Merle shrugged. "Big glitch o' geeks," he said, noting her absent smile. "They 'ad us pinned down for a while," she lifted her head to look at him. "But we threw young Ben up on tha roof and he was able to take a few out from 'round tha doors – the rest of us made tha truck and picked 'im up on tha way out."

"I'm sorry Merle," she sighed, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. "But thankyou for getting Samson."

"'salright," he muttered. He looked at her, leaning up against the log, her eyes closed. "Dontcha go ta sleep t'ere woman."

"The fairies'll take me to bed," she said with an impish smile as she never the less pulled herself upright.

"Ya fuckin' callin' me a fairy sugartits?" he reached out with his stump, catching her around the neck and dragging her against him, rubbing his knuckles into her head. She giggled, reaching up to catch his hand and he released her, although he left his stump curled around her shoulders.

She sighed and put her head against his shoulder. "I really would love a shower," she murmured. As disgusting as the comparison was, helping Merle skinning and gutting the rabbits and squirrels had held in good stead against the bloody scene that she had just endured. She had worn a gown, but she could still almost smell the coppery taint that had threatened numerous times to overwhelm her senses, only overcome by sheer force of will.

"Well why dontcha?" he asked as she made no move to stand.

"There's no hot water," she replied. "Won't be until tomorrow afternoon." She sighed again and moved in closer to him, not aware of his look at her. She made a noise of protest as he moved from under her.

"Be back in a bit," he said.

It had only been a few seconds to her, but in fact it had well over an hour, when he returned to her and grabbed her around the elbow. "Come on," he said and dragged her to her feet, Dog growling in protest.

"Time for bed?" she murmured, falling in beside him as they walked.

"In a bit," he nodded and she yawned again, wondering what he wanted to do first.

She frowned as she recognised the shower block. "I don't want a cold shower Merle," she protested.

"I know," he nodded and walked into the block.

She frowned _solar panels don't work in the dark _but followed him in. The block was lit with several lanterns, what appeared to be a pile of her clothes was settled on a bench and a 44gallon drum was sitting in the middle of the complex, steaming slightly.

"Ya betta check tha temp'rature," he advised, picking up the rope that was attached to the drum. Slightly bemused she did that, smiling and nodding once at the hot, but not burning temperature and Merle threw his muscles into action, hoisting the drum up to just above head height. She hurried over to him to tie the rope to the side wall, once she had it secured he came and fiddled with it to make sure. "It's only got one setting – flat out," he instructed. "Make sure ya ready."

"Did you want a shower as well?" she asked and he looked at her. She blushed and clarified "I can get out of the way quickly after it's about half way."

_Damn_ he thought over the sound of a wheezing laugh. "I'll git by without one – ya can use it all."

She smiled at him and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him on his cheek, he ducked his head. "Be outside," he muttered and walked around her, hearing her already pulling off her clothes. The water came out in a gush as he knew it would and he heard a gasp, then a moan of pure pleasure and he banged his head against the wall.

"Merle?" He straightened, his eyes narrowing as he took in Caleb coming towards him, still hobbling slightly and with distinct marking around his face from their earlier _discussions_. "Elijah wants to see you."

He nodded. "Be t'ere in a while."

"He wants to see you now," there was a definite smirk in Caleb's voice, although his eyes were drifting to behind Merle from where they could both hear a distinct humming _the end of the world had really fucked things up – he could recognise the Mary Poppins tune_.

"Marion," he called over his shoulder.

"Yeah?" floated back, sounding distinctly satisfied.

"Caleb and I are goin' up to see Elijah."

"Ok," she replied in a voice that told him not only did she realise that he was telling her she was safe but that she was curious as to what was going on.

"Let's go," invited Merle, enjoying the twitch around Caleb's mouth as he realised that he had been left with no option.

Elijah was seated at the big table that Merle had first seen him at, Samson perched on one of the lounges looking, Merle thought, distinctly unhappy. Caleb followed him in and planted himself against the frame of the door and Merle tensed, his hand instinctively going to his hip where his knife sat and knowing that Samson at least would have marked the movement. He'd been to the principal's (or the governor's, sherrif's) office often enough to know the form – but he had a way of not following form.

"I have heard some disturbing things about you today Merle," started Elijah. Merle lifted his brows, but the sign went straight over the top of Elijah's head. "I am told that you had ... _some words _with Caleb."

Merle shrugged, not bothering to even put a leash on his contempt. "Dumb prick wouldn't 'elp out his woman."

"How the hell was I meant to be any help?" demanded Caleb indignantly from the back.

"Any _real_ man woulda at least 'eld 'er 'and," snorted Merle. "Given 'er some support, some courage to git t'rough it. But yar right – _you_ couldn't 'ave been any 'elp at all." He smirked as Caleb moved, but then subsided at a wave from Elijah.

"Physical confrontation does not have a place here Merle," said Elijah with just a hint of a reprimand.

"I asked – once" said Merle. Samson ducked his head, but Elijah just looked pained. Caleb made a noise in the background.

There was silence for a while as Elijah considered. He looked at Samson and got a lopsided shrug, Merle wasn't sure if that meant he had nothing to offer or whether it was meant to convey complacence with the decision.

Elijah looked at Caleb. "I believe that in this case, Merle was justified Caleb." He held up his hand. "Not the physical nature – but in his request. Your relationship is over in 2 months – but until then you will be a full and participating husband and father. Is that understood?" He nodded at Caleb's disgruntled nod. "Then you may go."

Merle frowned – but she would have been finished by now, the hole in the drum was big – so he stayed where he was.

Elijah waited until Caleb had left and then turned again to Merle. "You also left the compound without permission. You in fact almost ran Abraham over and involved Joanna in your actions."

"Marion said t'ey needed Samson – so I got him" he snapped. "Ya want tha woman screamin' 'er 'ead off until nightfall?"

"You would have lost both Hannah and the baby if he hadn't got me when he did," added Samson. "Merle was also, as I understand it, instrumental in getting the others out of town today. Ben owes his life to him."

"Hmm, perhaps the circumstance did warrant extraordinary action" Elijah nodded finally. "I would appreciate it however Merle if you would please take a bit more care of the rules from now on– they exist for a reason. I need to know that I can trust you."

_Or what?_ he wondered but with a glance at Samson, held his tongue. _Marion liked it here, she was safer here_. He nodded.

"Thankyou then – that is all," murmured Elijah and Merle was dismissed.

She was curled up in his bed as he came into the tent and he paused, Dog growling lightly. He walked to the edge of the bed and doffed his outer clothes, reaching down to move back the blankets and to slide up against her. She stirred despite his efforts "What'd he want?" she murmured sleepily.

"Just to chew me out," he replied.

She rolled over on her back, suddenly very wide awake, and he remained propped up to meet her gaze. "They what?" she said indignantly. "After what you did today?"

He shrugged, surprised at her response. "T'ey t'ought I was too rough wit' Caleb."

She snorted and said something uncomplimentary under her breath. His brows rose, a smile playing about his lips and she shrugged. "Well really." She rolled back onto her side, snuggling back into him as he lay down.

He hesitated, wanting to tell her about the rest of the discussion but not sure where to start.

"These people are a bit... left field" she said quietly.

"I thought you liked them – being God squad and all," he said contrarily.

"Saying these are my people is like saying the Klu Klux Klan is yours" she snipped back at him.

"Hey!" he raised himself back on his elbow and glared down at her. "Just cause I don't hang with niggers don't mean I think t'ey should be strung up."

"Exactly," she said in satisfaction, turning her head to look at him. "And I tend to leave a person's faith to their own decision. I don't ram it down their throat," she ended in disgruntled tones.

Merle stayed silent for a few moments, hesitating. "Ya want to go?" he said uncertainly.

"Can we?" she looked up at him, a relieved expression visible in her face. "Please?"

"Ya ready ta leave all t'is?" he jerked his head at the tent, but meaning food, hot water, security, company.

She nodded. "I don't get this place – Hannah was in tears this morning about her marriage being over in two months – I laughed at her, but the other women – they almost seemed to agree with her."

"Elijah pretty much said tha' tha marriage was over in two mont's," he confirmed.

"And – there is Chloe," continued Marion. "She's back in the communal tent now that Jebbadiah is two months old – she doesn't really seem all that torn up about it. It's almost as if... well as if marriage here doesn't quite mean the same thing as it used to. And then there's Joanna – you don't want to know," she took a deep breath. "I just don't feel comfortable here anymore." She met his gaze directly. "But what about you? There's proper food here, hot water, shelter. There are other men here, you don't have to carry the whole load of responsibility by yourself – do you really want to go without that?"

"Ya fuckin' kiddin' me woman?" he snorted. "Haven't ya figured out I don't play nice wit' ot'ers? I got watch at 10 – I'll wake ya at midnight..."

She was shaking her head. "They don't deserve that Merle. They've taken us in, sheltered us, fed us, yes I know that we have contributed and all that – but there are lots of other groups out there that wouldn't have given us that chance."

Merle thought about that conversation between Samson and Elijah and wondered how much of a chance he would have been given if he'd come alone.

"We can leave in the morning," she continued.

He nodded, putting his head back down on the pillow and wrapping his stump firmly around her waist, feeling her wriggle until she found the exact spot where everything fit together properly. Their breathing eased into slow rhythmic pattern, countered by the quicker pant of Dog, perched against Marion's hips with his ears pricked.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

I am NOT a doctor, nor any type of medical professional so I may be completely wrong about all this (refer to Chapter 31) – but everyone has a theory. The pressure/pain thing was told to me by a beautician and the orange analogy was from a midwife (albeit in a book I think) – it's kind of useful for those less than understanding men out there.

(1) I googled Atlanta/Georgia greyhound tracks and that was what I found. For any Aussies the appropriate phrase would be 'at Wentworth Park' – a fate common for slow thoroughbreds.

(2) Found the best shots of eyes for both NR and MR on Celebrity Shots (or something like that) when their characters don't require them to squint. Quite uncanny at how similar their eyes are.


	38. Chapter 38

ARGH! Another one where I had A and D, but no B and C. Wasn't getting anywhere – so changed position A and voila! Done in one afternoon and one (small) chocolate bar. Hope you enjoy – you've all been demanding this bit for a while.

A little bit of housekeeping – today is Day25 since M&M met, the 14th since they arrived at Babylon. It is the 20th November (year undefined!) which is a Tuesday. Yes I have issues.

Chapter 38

"I'm sorry Miss Marion – but we can't let you go."

Marion blinked _and the day had started out normally enough_.

She woke at the normal time, having fallen back into sleep after he'd warmed his cold body against hers, and carefully extracted herself from under his arm. She grabbed her jacket, dirty clothes and her sponge bag from the pile on the floor, wondering who had got these from the tent last night for him, and slipped out. Dog bounced along next to her, ready for the adventure of the day and even she felt a little lighter knowing that they would be leaving Babylon that day. The other women were still sleeping and with practised ease she slipped into the tent, pausing to smile at Jebbadiah – spreadeagled to the absolute extreme of his cot and sleeping with his dummy just touching the edge of his mouth. As she watched he sucked and the dummy moved back in and was mouthed around before he relaxed again. Marion pulled out some fresh clothes, pulling them on and carefully folding the nightdress up and leaving it on the edge of her bed. She wouldn't take anything more than what she had brought.

The horses whickered to her as she approached and she smiled a little sadly. They moved into their established positions to be fed, except for Toby who followed her on her rounds, waiting for his piece of carrot and allowing himself to be subjected to a pat and a hug before going to chase one of the others out from their place. The milking was in full swing as she came back out and headed towards the tent, the water at the showers would be cold and after last night's deluge she didn't really feel like she needed a wash.

Chloe looked up as she came in, a feeding Jebbadiah content in her arms. Marion murmured good morning and stroked his head – his eyes followed her as far as they could before turning back to the serious business at hand.

Marion pulled her bag from under the bed and upended it. She sorted out her clothes still in the bag and then turned to those that were stored in the shelving beside her bed – not that she'd been there often lately. She folded her jeans, shirts and underwear, placing them in the bag as neatly as she could. She noticed some items missing and concluded that they were probably taken for today's washing load, figuring that Merle would probably have som there as well so left the tent to look for them, not noticing Chloe's wide eyed stare. She came back in with the missing clothes and some that she was confident were Merle's and Joanna straightened from next to Chloe.

"Marion – what are you doing?"

"Packing sweet," she replied.

"You're moving in with Merle?" she said with a tremor to her tone.

Marion looked around in surprise, catching her lip firmly at the wobegotten face. "Nooooo. Merle and I are heading out."

Joanna's face cleared and then she frowned. "What do you mean?"

"We're leaving Jo," answered Marion gently.

"Leaving?" she gasped. "You can't _leave_." She saw something akin to frostiness form in Marion's eyes and the lift of her brows. "I mean – you _can't_, I'll miss you too much."

Marion's face gentled and she opened her arms up to the young girl, who walked into them, and hugged her. "I'll miss you too Jo – all of you," she lifted her voice to carry to Chloe, watching with wide eyes. "You've all been very good to us, but there's something we need to do, we've allowed ourselves to linger too long. Now," she added in softer tones. "You make sure you look after Toby for me ok? He's a good boy really, it's just that he's misunderstood."

Jo nodded, sniffing slightly. "Where will you go?"

"Probably to Fort Benning to start with," shrugged Marion turning back to her bag to finish packing. "I know Samson said it was gone, but it's been a long time since he left – perhaps it has been reclaimed. It sounds like a place that people would want to get back control. After that," she sighed, her hand resting on her bag. "I don't know – we'll just see where we're taken." She took a look around the little place that had been her home for the last couple of weeks. "Come on, you can help me get breakfast for the others."

"Wha' tha fuck ya mean we can't leave?" demanded Merle now, staring at Samson.

He'd stirred as she left, but knew that she would insist on doing her chores before they left, so he luxuriated in the warmth and slight odour in the blankets, allowing himself to doze lightly. His internal body clock ticked over and he groaned – his sleep had been disturbed the morning before and with all the action that day and watch the night before he was operating on about 3hours sleep. _Suck it up Dixon_ he commanded himself, it wasn't like today would be the only day where he was lacking sleep and with only the two of them again, sleep would become a rarer commodity – even with Dog on watch. He threw the blankets off and pulled himself up. He picked up his clothes from the day before and sniffed – they were good enough so he pulled them on. He stood and yanked his bag from under the bed and took the couple of steps to the shelving. _Had to give the woman credit_ he thought, he was pretty sure that she'd twitched at the storage method of his clothes, but she hadn't tidied them up at all. It took two sweeps of his arm to collect them all and he shoved them into the bag. He looked at the oilskin and then grabbed it as well – may as well take it as well. He left the bag unzipped _fuckin' hard to do with one hand anyway _and stepped out of the tent.

He went to the weapons store, nodding once to David who was busy cleaning one of the weapons, looking around to locate the bag that they'd brought with them. He opened it, grunting in satisfaction when he saw most of the handguns and spare clips were still in it. He looked around the walls, reaching up and extracting the other handguns, the rifle and the shotgun. He checked the loading of the silenced weapon and then, with the safety on, tucked it behind the waistband of his pants. He grabbed a tin of lubricant and wished for a bit of beeswax _Daryl'd know how to do it better of course, but he could put a basic kit together _(1) and then scanned the walls again and located the crossbow, its quiver _need to do some more _and the sword.

"What's going on Merle?" said David in genuine confusion.

"Packin' up," he answered, wondering exactly how he was going to get the blade into the bag. He shrugged – it never really left her side anyway, she could carry it.

"You going somewhere?" David asked again, not really finding enough in his first answer to clear the frown of confusion on his face.

"Headed off," elaborated Merle. "Marion and I are leaving," he added further as David still looked confused.

"You're _leaving_?" gasped David. He blinked, then stood, wiping his oily hands on his trousers before extending his right hand. Merle raised his brows and David lowered it with a slight grimace. "Well... um.. I suppose... thankyou," he finally managed. "For all your help – for everything you've taught me."

"'salright," shrugged Merle. "Just watch tha tractor's oil pressure, tha new 'ose'll last a while but t'ere's somet'in' goin' on wit' tha gaskets. Also tha truck's clutch – ya have to double pump when changin' gear – got it?"

"Got it," David nodded with a grin. "Are you goin' right now?" He said in a sudden worry.

"Na," Merle shrugged. "Tha woman won't be ready yet – may as well 'ave some breakfast suppose, it'll be a long day." _Besides it was Ben's turn to cook and he always did pancakes._

Samson turned to Merle after his outburst, a slight smile teasing around his lips. "I didn't say _you_ couldn't go Merle – just Miss Marion."

Involuntarily Marion eased closer to Merle and his growl was as much for her as it was for Samson. "I ain't goin' anywhere wit'out 'er." He eyed off the situation – Samson stood directly before the gates, flanked by his two most trusted lieutenants Aaron and Abraham. _Tha prick _Caleb was there too, as was David (looking regretful but determined) and Gideon. All of them held the military weapons brought by Samson, and all of them had the safeties off. Emmanuel, Goliath and Jacob were now coming up behind Marion – weaponless but obviously on alert for anything that he might do. His eyes flashed up and met Samson's – the author of the ambush.

Samson offered him a slightly warning nod _Don't try it_ and then turned back to Marion. "Please mam – Elijah would like to talk to you."

Marion looked around, she didn't see many options. Merle carried the weapons bag and the rifle, but he also had his clothes bag over his shoulder. There was no way he could get off a shot before one of the others took him down. She had her own clothes bag over her shoulder as well as the crossbow and sword – while she might be able to take one of them with the sword before one of the guns was used, she really wasn't ready to kill one of them. She could feel the tension radiating off Merle, his stump was almost vibrating against her lower back.

"Come on woman – let's see what _Elijah_ wants," hissed Merle and she nodded, turning to walk back to the centre of the camp, Dog trotting after them with his tail between his legs. They were escorted back by the men, although the women and the young Ben could be seen at the other end of the camp watching. They were relieved of their weapons, including his knife, three of the guns trained at Merle's head as Samson did so. He met both of their eyes steadily, then handed the guns and other things off to Aaron before stepping up the stairs, holding out his hand courteously for Marion.

Merle snorted as she ignored the outstretched hand, almost shrinking from it as she walked inside. He planted himself right next to, but slightly in front of her. She would have to reach for it left handed, but she could reach the gun and he wanted his own hand unencumbered. But there was a whispered conversation behind him and Samson came up behind him "steady Merle" he murmured and removed the silenced gun from his waistband. Marion met his eyes and grimaced.

Elijah straightened from the same chair that they'd first seen him at. "My friends," he said mournfully. "I'm so sorry that it has come to this."

"Sorry don't mean shit," snapped Merle. "Wha' tha fuck ya doin'?"

Elijah paused. "Mankind – _human_kind," he added with a smile in Marion's direction. She didn't smile back. "was given a mission by God at the beginning of time. To go forth and multiply." He paused, glancing at Deborah who sat on one of the couches and Samson who was leaning casually against the wall. Merle knew there were others behind them and moving around the room, but he made no effort to look – the key to this whole fiasco was _the prick_ at the front here. Elijah continued, in an instructive tone, "Now, I always thought that we'd overdone our obedience to that particular command. The Earth was pretty much collapsing under the weight of our multiplications. Ruth and I formed Babylon to escape that world, to get back to the type of world that the first humans had," _solar panels and all _thought Marion sardonically but she didn't want to interrupt. "But the world has changed – most of the human population has gone, one way or the other. This is our opportunity to repopulate the world – the way He meant it to be, with God fearing and obedient people."

"You're going to try and repopulate the world with thirty people?" demanded Marion sarcastically.

Elijah smiled. "Well I'll start with the state of Georgia – but as you say I only have 30 people to work with. We've had to take certain liberties with established practice to get as far as we have – but you're right; the genetic pool needs to be larger – hence why I cannot let you leave."

"Why me?" she snapped and Dog growled slightly at her tone.

"Why you?" Elijah genuinely looked astonished. He crossed back to his desk and opened up his book. "You are perfect child bearing stock Marion." Merle felt the flinch go through her _stock? What he thought she was a cow?_ "Granted yes you are slightly older than optimal, but you've had two children previously so your age shouldn't be an impediment to procreation. Your birth history does worry me slightly, but Samson has already performed one caesarean section and he assures me that another one, even two would be safe for you if we encounter similar difficulties as with your first two labours. You have no genetic defects, no allergies and you've shown, albeit with some slight issues, that you can fit in amongst the rest of the group."

Marion's appreciation of the moment was on a reverse exponential curve as she realised that he was actually serious. She flashed her eyes to Deborah, accusation of the betrayal hard in her gaze, but Deborah met them placidly for a moment before turning to Elijah with something like worship in her own eyes.

Merle snorted and Elijah's eyes moved to him. "And then there's you Merle," he said with an almost _fuckin' _jovial tone. "Oh don't get me wrong – you too are of perfect genetic stock. Your physique is one I'd like my boys to grow up with and you have no deformities or other defects that would be a problem. You too are a little older than optimal – but age is not so crucial in men, although I suppose without proof of virility it is possible that you don't have the capacity. It is _you_ that's the problem. Nothing that we do will make you fit in. I did what Samson recommended – I let you have your weapons, I gave you a position of trust, I let you out of camp, I overlooked your lack of attendance at mass. I thought that day of the ice storm that it had been enough, that you'd be happy being one of us. Then there was yesterday and I knew – you will just never fit in here. And this morning you've shown it."

"So what's the plan then Elijah?" asked Marion after a slight pause – Merle was literally dumbstruck with the assessment. "You're just going to put me up to the highest bidder?"

"Oh no," he assured her. "I make sure your matches are suitable – I want to maximise the strengths that your children..."

"Matches?" she said in outrage.

Elijah nodded. "Of course – I have such a small genetic pool that I have to mix them up as much as possible. You and your first husband – as long as a child is conceived within the first three months – will stay until your baby is two months old. When you baby is six months old you will marry again, and so on."

Marion was looking slightly sick, Merle was certainly feeling it. But Elijah was still expanding on his theme.

"I have to be careful of who I match to prevent problems with the second generation. I will also have to try and balance out the genders as much as I can – you for instance have already had two girls, but the gender is decided from the man's contribution so I would pay more attention to say Aaron who had three boys with his late wife, or Barnabas who had two girls with his late wife." His voice had grown almost contemplative as he reflected on the issues he had before him. "I have of course already had some interest expressed in becoming your husband, I take that into account."

"So you will condone rape," she snapped at him.

"It wouldn't be rape," he assured her hastily.

"Yes it would," she said icily, turning slightly to look directly at Caleb.

For a moment Elijah was shaken and he looked at her uncertainly. His eyes flicked to Merle, silent and unmoving directly behind her shoulder. He seemed to shake himself and his voice retained the ring of certainty as he continued. "You will come to understand Miss Marion – of that I am comfortable. Everyone else has. It is only logical – humankind can't be left to repopulate without some thought behind it, some plan. And women are crucial to that – one man can procreate a dozen babies easily enough, but only women can nurture them to life and there is the time factor. I simply cannot let you leave – well not without giving us a child."

A burst of hard laughter left her lips. "You think I would _leave_ my baby here with you?"

Elijah nodded. "If you really wanted to leave, that could be done. Really – as long as I knew you were pregnant I might even be able to let you go, I know that with your faith you would continue the pregnancy to the end, although the way you live, there would be too much of a risk of miscarriage," he talked himself around into a decision.

"Elijah," she said slowly and clearly. "There is no way that I will be part of your crazy little repopulation scheme. I would die rather than _procreate_ with one of you."

Elijah paused, obviously taking a bit more notice of her this time. His eyes flicked to Merle and narrowed for a moment before turning back to Marion. "I would have no objection to you and Merle you know," and Merle twitched _wha' tha fuck? _ "As I said – genetically there is nothing wrong with him. I'm sure that any baby, brought up in the right environment would be free of his _issues_. I have to admit," he started to become enthusiastic, "that your progeny would have potential – your calculated intelligence mixed with his instinctual cunning. You are just so different – you are placid and considered in your actions, he is extreme and rash in his, you are conciliatory, he is inflammatory, you are a slight build, he is large, he is rough and you are refined, even your eyes – you have the dominate brown eyes but since your previous children had blue eyes, you obviously have the recessive gene and with his blue eyes I stand a high chance of getting a blue eyed child. Not that I mind," he said hastily, "it's just that uncertainty makes the planning so difficult."

"Ya fuckin' kiddin' me," spat out Merle finally. "We're leavin'." He grabbed Marion's arm and turned – three guns suddenly focussed on his head.

"I cannot let Marion go Merle," Elijah shook his head. "You however are free to go if you so wish."

"I ain't leavin' wit'out her," he said again, turning to face Elijah. Merle saw Elijah's eyes flick up and over his shoulder and he almost flung Marion out of the way as three of them charged in, Dog barking as he scampered out of the way. Merle caught one, he couldn't even see which one, flush in the face with his fist and felt a burst of satisfaction as there was a definite crack and a spurt of blood. Then there was a blow, the butt of a rifle by the feel of it, in his kidneys and he staggered, spinning around and capturing it with one hand – using his stump to beat its holder in the face until it was let go. He held the gun like a bat and swung it at the others, he heard a click as a rifle was cocked, but he ignored it, diving in amongst them.

"Miss Marion," said Samson's voice in her ear and she looked up at him. He met her eyes steadily, although she thought that she could possibly see a hint of regret in there. "Please – I need you to stop this."

She looked at the heaving mass that was Merle and several of the camp's men, moving slowly but inexorably towards Elijah. There were guns aimed at him – Caleb held one and was working his way around the group to get a shot –she turned back to Samson and nodded once but her voice was hard and distinct, "you are a piece of shit."

He flinched a little but released her arm and gave a whistle, reaching out to clasp Caleb's arm. Marion walked toward the slightly smaller but still heaving mass (Merle wasn't letting them get away easily, wanting the shelter of their bodies from the rifles). "Merle," she called. "Merle – stop, you need to stop."

"Git out of 'ere woman," he shouted instead, yanking Amos back into the fray and using his body as a shield.

"And where do I go then?" she demanded, ignoring the how given their position. She stepped forward, getting closer to him. "How do I manage by myself?" He released Amos and looked at her, still heaving and bleeding from a couple of small marks on his face and his knuckles. She reached forward, clasping his wrists gently. "How far do you think I'm going to get by myself Merle? I wouldn't have any weapons, no shelter, no food, no clothes, no _vehicle. _I'm in a strange country, I don't know my way around, I can't hunt – how long do you think I'm going to last?" She stepped closer to him, moving her hands up to his face. "I need you with me Merle – please, I _need_ you."

He looked down into her brown eyes, shimmering slightly as she looked up at him. She was right _of course_, even if she managed to get through all of the camp, there would be her and Dog. And she wasn't at the _Palace_ anymore, this was a whole different situation. He nodded once and she smiled back, releasing his face and turning so that she was pressed against the front of him, her arms crossed over her chest. He wrapped his arms underneath them.

Elijah looked up from the conversation he'd been having with Deborah as silence descended back into the room, taking in their stance of solidarity with only a slight smile. "You haven't had your cycle yet I understand Miss Marion?"

"No," lied Marion baldly.

Elijah nodded, a decision made. "Well I believe I can spare 4 weeks. You and Merle can be married for that period – if a baby results then perhaps that will be enough incentive for Merle to adapt to our ways? If not..." Elijah shrugged.

Merle had a thought that perhaps her overlarge sense of privacy had just saved his life – for four weeks anyway.

"That's not long enough to know whether I'm pregnant," she exclaimed in horror.

"Yes it is," said Deborah from her position and Marion glared at her, regretting the amusing anecdote of how she had known she was pregnant with Jennifer.

"Do you know the chances of getting pregnant at the first try?" she demanded. "Especially at my age?"

_That dog won't hunt woman_ inwardly snorted Merle even as Elijah smiled. "If it is God's will, it will happen." He looked to Samson. "Please take them to their tent."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) Oversight corrected, and complimentary reference, after reading Chapter 15 of the very enjoyable "Exile" by WTFdoUwantNOW.


	39. Chapter 39

I really need to swear more often – I'm a bit too tame for Merle, so feel free to insert your own expletives to make it more realistic.

Chapter 39

It was probably shock that held him compliant as two of the men manhandled him into the tent, Marion snapping her arm out of Aaron's firm but respectful grip as she followed him in. The tent flap whispered closed with what was to him the clang of a cell door and that was when he lost it.

"Fuckin' pricks... son o'a bitches... motha fuckin' assholes... bible bashin' dumb faggots..." each oath was punctuated with a kick and punch to the only solid thing in the room, the shelving. He dismantled it – throwing it onto the ground, kicking holes in it and picking up the fragments to slam them into the ground, flinging them against the side of the tent which bulged under the impact but reflected the blows back without noticeable damage. He stood heaving over the top of the pile of timber that used to be furniture and looked around with slightly wild eyes. He took a step and grabbed at the tent pole "Bastard mental c..."

"Merle!" yelled Marion from directly in front of him – she'd slipped between him and the pole, which had been showing some tendency to snap under his onslaught and therefore bring the entire tent down on them. "Enough!"

He glared at her, anger boiling inside of him. He needed to hit something, hurt someone – he couldn't do that to her. So he did the next best thing.

He kissed her.

He was not gentle.

His mouth covered hers with bruising force, his tongue compelling his way into her mouth. His stump grabbed underneath her bottom, pulling her up and against him where his body – pumping with adrenalin obliged immediately. His other hand went straight to her breast, squeezing it and he groaned at the feel of it _finally_ against his palm. His tongue invaded her mouth, dominating against hers and taking possession of all he found in there. She still had the slightly minty taste of her toothpaste, mixed with a suggestion of her breakfast and her own special brand of sweetness and he moaned again, ducking down slightly to lift her feet off the floor and move towards the bed. Her arms snaked around his neck and he released her mouth, moving to her ear which he bit a little roughly, then down her neck until he could reach her collar bone.

"You going to fuck me Merle?" she murmured huskily in his ear and he groaned. "We going to make a little Dixon for Elijah?"

It was like a bucket of ice over him and he released her instantly.

Marion stood in the middle of the tent, breathing hard, her lips and breast throbbing from the abuse that he had dealt them. _How dare he_ she fumed. But her anger dissipated as she looked at him, sitting on the bed with his head in his hand and stump, clenching at the small strands of hair, literally shaking. Not with fear, not because of tears, but because of anger. He was holding himself so tight, trying to control the anger that literally was making his blood boil. _This was all he knew_ she realised. This was his coping mechanism; this is what life had taught him; whenever something had gone against him, whenever something had been taken from him he fought back. He yelled, he swore, he hit, he kicked – with everything he had. He didn't know how to deal with things any other way.

He flinched as she sat down, the bed compressed under his weight pulling her against him, but she said nothing _fuck she should be yelling and screaming at him_. He clenched his hand into his skull, bruising the sensitive skin at its base, his upper arms tensing. Then she put a hand on his thigh, and rested her head against his shoulder. He moved suddenly, wrapping his arm around her neck and pulling her against him. This time though he kissed the top of her head – it was the closest to an apology that he could get.

"It's ok,' she whispered against his chest and Dog crawled out from under the bed, licking her hands uncertainly. "It's my fault."

This time he pushed her away so that he could look at her face. "How tha fuck do ya get t'at?" he demanded.

She shrugged, burying her hand into Dog's coat. "If we'd left last night when you wanted to..."

"So ya reckon ya made me wait till t'is mornin' do ya?" he snorted. "Wha' did I do last night huh?" She looked at him in confusion. "I went ta sleep – I got up and did watch and then I got right back next ta ya and went back ta sleep. I knew theys were wacko – but I didn' t'ink they was t'is wacko. We got done ok – it ain't ya fault."

She sniffed and he dragged her back against him, his anger starting to recede. She huddled against him for the moment, sniffing as she fought to control the tears that now found an opening amongst the shock, disbelief and anger. "What are we going to do now?" she whispered.

"We goin' to git tha fuck outta here sugar," he replied. _Just don't ask me how._

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Deborah was the first one to venture into the tent. She cleared her throat from the outside and then called gently "Marion?"

"Yes?" called Marion in arctic tones even as Dog growled lightly.

Deborah advanced, carrying both of their clothes bags. _No weapons obviously_ thought Merle, from his position on the bed, even as Marion pulled herself off his arm and sat up, pulling Dog into her lap, her back pressed against his hip.

"I've brought you your clothes," said Deborah gently after a glance to the pile of wood on the ground and a look up and down the abused tent pole. She also looked hard at Marion and Merle's blood started to boil again _as if he'd ever raise his hand against a woman, let alone this woman_. "And your other supplies. Unless you would like to move back into the single women's tent until after..."

"I'll stay right here thankyou," replied Marion firmly.

Deborah nodded, "you can tell when you're most fertile by getting your fluid..." she lifted her fingers.

"I know how to tell," Marion interrupted hastily. He was new to this whole concept of internal female workings and she wasn't sure how much extra Merle could cope with in one day.

Deborah nodded again and placed the bags down, neither of them moving forward to take them from her. "We'll see you at lunch then?"

Merle sat up and Marion started. "You mean we're not confined to the tent?" she asked.

Deborah laughed lightly. "Oh no my dear. There will obviously be restrictions – on both of you – but you're free to move around the camp as you please. Stress is no good for procreation."

"Fuckin' procreate you ya bitch," muttered Merle under his breath as she turned and left the tent. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Ya goin' ta tell me wha' tha fuck was t'at all 'bout?"

"We've been here more than two weeks – they can do the maths Merle. If it doesn't happen soon they'll suspect something is up."

"And t'en wha?" he demanded.

She shrugged. "Well I suppose we can do it like rabbits," she smiled at his grimace _irony – it's a killer_. "But I was kind of hoping to have a Plan B by then."

He snorted and stood up, deciding that he may as well test Deborah's assertion that they weren't confined to the tent straight away. He paused for a moment as he came out the flap, meeting Samson's eyes as he stood casually in the shade of another tent. "Ya me escort?" he demanded caustically, eyeing off the weapon in Samson's hands.

"Nope," Samson replied mildly. "You're free to go wherever you want in the camp" and turned back to look at the tent.

Merle fumed as he walked down to and back from the toilet block. So they were going to watch Marion, knowing that he wouldn't leave without her or perhaps really not caring if he did. He threw himself onto the bed behind her and pulled her against him angrily, closing his eyes defiantly. _Plan B required sleep._

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"I'm sorry Marion," said Joanna as they walked together to the shower block, Aaron a small distance behind them with the weapon held loosely. Merle hadn't been keen on letting her go when she had stirred from their sleep, but she figured that the water would warmed up a little and since they were here for a while, she thought she may as well have a shower. The shower had always been her place to think – and she needed desperately to think. He'd grumbled, but once she had reported that it was Aaron on guard outside he had nodded and rolled back over, the need for sleep overcoming him. Joanna had been summoned once she had made it clear where she was going – Marion wasn't sure what they thought she might do alone in the shower, but she bit her lip and let Joanna accompany her without too much fuss.

"For what?" asked Marion _for spying on me, for pretending to be a friend, for collaborating against me when I wanted to leave?_

"Well – you and Merle," replied the young girl and Marion looked at her with disbelief, although she hid it quickly. "I know that you don't think of him _that_ way. But it's only a month, as long as you're not pregnant, you should be able to dissolve your marriage and choose someone else."

Marion shook herself inwardly _the hide of her! _"So when is this marriage?" she demanded.

"Tonight," replied Joanna moodily. "It has to be really – doesn't it?"

"There's no point doing anything before my cycle," Marion shrugged and Joanna seemed to perk up a little. A thought struck her "Has anyone thought to mention it to Merle?"

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

He thought they were coming for him and he fought them. Hard. He punched, he kicked, he grabbed and he slammed. They'd come in the tent while he still slept and they'd caught him at a disadvantage, but he refused to go down without a damn good fight.

"Merle!" yelled a voice and the others shrunk back. He glared at Samson, who was breathing a little hard with Aaron immediately behind him. "Enough Merle," although he looked at the others as well as he said it and a couple of them dropped their heads a little. "We are not here to harm you."

"Wha' tha fuck do ya want t'en?" he demanded.

"It's your wedding day," smiled Samson.

_Fuck_.

They primped and preened him – well as much as he could be primped and preened. He was shaven carefully by David, who glared more than once at Amos casually holding a gun near his head the whole time. _An ally?_ thought Merle, but if that was the case he seemed to be in the minority. Ben also seemed to favour him, but he was jumpy – he apparently had been one of the ones to come to the tent and Merle had a bad feeling that the blackening mark around the kid's eye was down to him. He was therefore a little slower and gentle at accepting the after shave that the boy offered him hesitantly and he was rewarded by a slight smile and a chuckle when he cursed at the sting on his skin. There was no point doing anything with his hair – his last shave had pretty much dealt with anything, but he was persuaded to remove his trousers and shirts to pull on the smock and wide pants that the others wore. They were clean and crisp and even he had to admit he looked alright when he was given sight of himself in a mirror.

_Merle Dixon – husband _snorted a voice in his ear. _Must be God's idea of a sick joke_.

He clenched his teeth and turned suddenly away from his reflection.

She was stunningly beautiful – more so than he would have guessed. She'd always had _something_, mostly centred about her eyes, but with a bit off effort she took his breath away. Her hair had also been primped and preened, it had been twisted up and one of the girls had woven the last of the season's flowers into each twist. She wore one of those dresses, but it had been gartered with a long golden chain and instead of hanging like a bag it hugged her waist and defined her shape. Her feet were bare and she carried a simple garland of the same flowers that adorned her hair. She still wore her wedding rings ("Not a snowflake's," she had snapped when Chloe had suggested that she remove them.) and she was a little stiff, but as she saw him she smiled and he couldn't help but smile back. _God's fucking pissing himself_ he decided as she walked down the aisle toward him, escorted only by Dog who had also looked like he'd been blowdried.

Elijah held up his hands. "Friends – we are assembled here in the presence of these witnesses to celebrate the joining of this man and this woman in the unity of marriage. There are no obligations on earth sweeter or tender than those you are about to assume. "

"There is no human institution more sacred than that of the home you are about to form. True marriage is the dearest of all earthly relationships. The state of matrimony is based a deep, invisible union of two souls, who seek to find completion in one another." Elijah looked down on them happily, seemingly oblivious to the weapons held by Samson and Aaron on Merle's side, and impervious to Merle's glare and Marion's curled lip.

"Who gives this couple in marriage?" he asked.

"We do," replied the rest of them.

"Will you please face each other and join hands?" asked Elijah.

Merle took a look at Samson, who raised his brows. _Fuck – if he didn't do this..._ he turned to her, she was already facing him, but her eyes were on her feet and her hands trembled slightly in his. He squeezed them and she lifted her eyes to him, giving him a slightly tremulous smile.

"Merle, will you take this woman, whose hands you hold, choosing her alone to be your wedded wife? Will you live with her in the state of true matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, through good times and bad, in sickness and in health, honour her at all times, and be faithful to her?"

_For all of a month?_ He thought "Yes," he said gruffly.

"Marion, will you take this man, whose hands you hold, choosing him alone to be your wedded husband? Will you live with him in the state of true matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, through good times and bad, in sickness and in health, honour him at all times, and be faithful to him?'

"Yes," said Marion quietly, her gaze somewhere about his Adam's apple. In his hand he could feel her fingers twirling her wedding rings.

Joanna stepped forward and held up two plain copper rings. Elijah held up his hand over them, "Oh Lord God – bless these rings, that each gives, receives, and wears as a token of the covenant between them and You, and may they abide in thy peace, living together in unity, in love, and in happiness, and with good purpose do thy will. Amen."

"Amen," said the rest of them and even though no sound came out of her lips, Marion mouthed the word as well.

"As you take these I would have you remember that to love is to come together from the pathways of your past and move forward," _tha prick was looking at him_. "Hand in hand, along the uncharted roads of your future, ready to risk, to dream, and to dare. And always believe that all things are possible with faith and love in the Lord."

_Hell – he was in hell_ he thought. _Did you ever doubt brother?_

"Merle – repeat after me," said Elijah with just a hint of steel. Joanna offered him the pillow , _little bitch looked about ready to cry, _and only after a short hesitation he picked up the smaller of the rings. Marion's hand trembled slightly as he had to remove the support of his hand to be able to slip the ring on her already crowded finger.

"I Merle Dixon, choose you Marion to be my wife, to love and to cherish in the service of God." Merle repeated, his eyes narrowing _messing with the text? _"Thus with this ring I thee wed, let it be a symbol of our commitment to God." _Yep – something screwy going on here. And you're surprised at that brother?_

Then it was Marion talking, her voice low but firm as she repeated the vows.

"I Marion Arnold, choose you Merle to be my husband, to love and cherish in the service of God." She placed one hand under his, the other threaded the larger ring onto his finger. "Thus with this ring I thee wed, let it be a symbol of our commitment to God." She bit down on her lip, the awful parody of what they were doing grating against her like the cheap copper ring grated against her gold ones.

Elijah beamed "In as much as you, Merle, and you Marion, have consented together to this union of marriage," _not fuckin' much "_and you have pledged your faith to each other here in my presence, and the presence of this company, I now announce that you are husband and wife!"

"You may kiss," he said more quietly.

_Fuck, fuck and double fuck_ he cursed inwardly. He thought of putting on a show, but he took another look at Marion – she was holding on by the fingernails – and decided against it. He instead reached his arm over her shoulders, dragging her against him and, glaring at Elijah, deliberately placed his lips against her forehead.

Elijah seemed to recognise the challenge that was dropped in front of him and for a moment his smile faltered. But like all fanatics, his confidence came back quickly and he raised his hands. "Friends, I now present Mrs. Marion and Mr. Merle Dixon!"

There was a cheer from a few of them and a round of applause from the rest, even Samson managing to clap a couple of times around his weapon, a strange smile on his lips.

"May the Lord God bless your union with children," intoned Elijah and Merle glared at him again.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

He almost wished she'd cry – as much as it would do his head in. He wished she'd rant and rave, scream and yell. He wished she'd do _fuckin' _anything. But she'd walked back from the 'ceremony' in absolute silence, she'd eaten some of the dinner that they'd brought them _fuckin' candles and all_ in silence, she'd walked with him _and the rest of her escort _down to and back from the toilets without a word and had even undressed in front of him, albeit with her back to him at the far side of the tent, without any dialect about keeping his eyes to himself. Now she lay deathly still in his arms, her eyes wide open and staring at the canvas jail cell.

He knew that this sham of a marriage _to him – Merle Dixon_ was killing her, it was some type of sick joke after the decade and children that she'd had with her _real husband_. But he just couldn't cope with this – he needed her to help him fight _hell_ he needed her just to be with him.

Dog whined, looking at Marion with wide brown eyes. She didn't respond and Merle moved his stump a little to rub at Dog's head. "It'll be alright," he murmured, to both of them. "I promise."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Wedding ceremony carved up from (with all the w's) WeddingsbyLance because I was too lazy to go looking through my wedding album or to find a bible. And really he has some nice wording.


	40. Chapter 40

If I could just make these chapters shorter, I'd be up to 50 by now. Oh well, grab that popcorn and seltzer water.

Chapter 40

He woke the instant that she stirred in his arms, tensing and half propping up to look at the tent flap.

"It's alright," she murmured to him and he relaxed his grip to back around her waist and lowered himself back down to the pillow. He frowned though as she tapped his arm, and at him lifting it, pulled herself up and out of bed, folding the blankets behind her to keep some of her warmth around him. Dog sneezed, sitting up but staying in his position on the bed.

"Where ya goin'?" he asked – it was just dawn by the look of the light filtering through the tent and his body clock.

"To feed the horses," she said with some surprise from the bags of clothes.

"Ya wha'?" he demanded, sitting up. "Ya ain't goin' to do _chores_!"

"Why not?" she replied, turning to him. She lifted her brow slightly and with a start he realised what she was doing and turned his head away. "You think we should just stay in here all day? How is that going to accomplish anything?"

He heard the whisper of her nightgown coming over her head and _knew _that she was butt starked naked _just there_ and his body responded automatically. He moved his leg to hide the distinct shape in the blankets and kept his eyes averted until he heard the zip of her jeans. "So ya goin' ta make it easy for t'em?" he demanded turning back to her _too early _and he stared at her back as she flicked the bra up over her shoulders and bent her shoulders back to do up the catch. She was faced away from him, and the curves of her breasts were mere suggestions – but it was enough and he collapsed against the pillows with an inner groan. _You are well and truly fucked my brother _said the inner voice with an actual note of sympathy. _There ain't no way that you're going to survive this_. And didn't he know it.

Marion and Dog walked down to the horses with only a cursory glance at Aaron as the man straightened from his position on the log outside Merle's tent. She gave a glance towards the single women's tent – they would be stirring soon and then would make their way down to the barn for milking. She hoped that that would be her opportunity.

She'd allowed herself to wallow the evening before – just to let the dreadfulness of the day to overwhelm her. She'd held back the tears though, as much as she'd just wanted to collapse into a weeping mess she didn't think that would be fair on Merle. He'd coped alright before, granted, but then there had been no-one to punish for her distress. This time was different, and she needed him to have a cool head on his shoulders if she was going to be able to get them out of this mess. So this morning she had woken with a firm control and an inkling of an idea.

Joanna arrived as she was finishing forking out the hay, she'd enjoyed giving Aaron some glares and had paused dramatically a couple of times to take deep breaths – he'd obviously been torn but his dedication to Elijah (or maybe his wariness of Merle) had been stronger than his chivalry and he'd stayed at his post just to the inside of the barn with his weapon. He greeted Joanna's arrival with some relief though and offered her a few choice words, which to her credit Joanna scoffed at but hurried to take some of the load off her.

Marion yawned mightily as she set about the horses, emptying the buckets in the normal routine. She saw Joanna give her a glance, "Not much sleep last night."

Joanna flinched. "I thought you said there wasn't much point."

Marion shrugged. "Merle didn't seem to agree."

The girl turned her head pointedly away and Marion allowed herself a little smile.

The women acted almost as if nothing had happened except a loving wedding and there were a couple of arch looks and playful questions. It was nothing more than a group of female friends might banter about but Marion just couldn't see these women in that light anymore and while she responded lightly with forced smiles, after only a few mouthfuls of the eggs she had been handed for breakfast she pulled herself to her feet and walked away, Aaron a few paces behind her.

She heard her name called out and contemplated on walking, but with a sigh she stopped and looked up at Samson as he came to her. "Yes _Mr_ Samson," she said with heavy sarcasm.

A slight flick in his eyes indicated that he had heard and understood that the use of the honorific was anything but. "I was wondering whether you might be able to call in on Miss Hannah."

Marion hadn't seen Hannah since the operation, she'd called past the tent on her way out the day before but the woman had been asleep. _She hadn't even thought of her after that _Marion realised with sudden shame. She could of course say no and retreat to the tent _but who exactly would she be hurting then? _"Of course," she nodded.

"I would like her to get up and out of bed today – perhaps...?" he left the sentence hang.

"I'll take her for a shower," said Marion and turned in that direction. "Hannah?" she called out as she came to the tent – the woman was obviously not asleep because she could hear little John (she grinned inwardly) screaming his lungs out. She pushed into the tent without waiting for an answer and Hannah looked up with a tearful face.

"He won't stop crying," she moaned, one hand holding the baby, the other trying to fit her breast into his screaming mouth. "I couldn't even give birth properly and now I can't even feed him. I can't do anything right!"

"Honey," Marion hurried over to her, even though the noise was deafening – Dog turned and ran back outside the tent. "Don't be silly. Your body's just been through a pretty serious trauma, it's trying to recover. But he doesn't know that – all he knows is that he's meant to cry to stimulate your milk." She reached over and took the baby from her, placing him down on the bed and tightening the wrapping around him to bind the waving arms and legs in tight. She held him closely, swaying and inserted her little finger into his mouth. He latched onto it like a vacuum cleaner, his eyes closing. "He's not actually that hungry yet – you're giving him all that he needs for the moment."

"But ..."

"No buts sweety – I've been here ok. I had so much trouble with Rachel – she was screaming, I was bleeding, I was crying, she wouldn't sleep – nothing would work. But when Jenny came along – she did everything the same, and this time my body hadn't been traumatised – everything clicked into place. So will yours – trust me. We'll get some of that formula I brought back, you'll feed him and then top him up with that and by day 5 you'll be overflowing."

"But Deborah said that Chloe..."

"Fuck what Deborah says," said Marion harshly and Hannah giggled. "And Chloe won't be able to come within 30metres of little John here unless she wants to become a watering can, so why don't we just do what's good for you hey?"

She shifted the now sleeping baby into one hand, her finger coming out with an audible pop, and reached her hand out. "Come on – let's get you a nice warm shower, you'll feel much better."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle stretched out _it was no use, he had to get up_. Besides the fact that he wasn't used to staying in bed unless he was sleeping, the sun had well and truly risen and the temperature in the tent had steadily increased as the trapped air had been heated. It would be a whole new kettle of fish once he stepped outside, autumn had arrived and the air had decidedly cooled off. He looked with some dissatisfaction at the wreck of shelving _should do something about that_ he decided _the woman wouldn't be happy living out of a bag_. There was no-one waiting for him as he opened the tent and he looked around – everyone seemed to be going about life as per normal. He looked over to the gate and on a whim turned that way: Gabriel and Barnabas glanced at him as he walked to the gateway – he paused on the threshold of the camp, looking out into the forest _where freedom lay_ for a few moments before he turned back, smirking slightly as he saw the looks the two men gave him.

He meandered through the camp, passing the weapons store and noting the large, shiny padlock that was set on the simple wooden structure. He took a couple of steps that way and noticed that Goliath straightened from his task of planting seeds in punnets and that Cain paused in the mixing of the compost. _So they were watching_ he decided. _But they weren't paying enough attention – well they'd regret that._

He went first towards the barn, it was pretty much empty at this time of the day, and filled his pockets before he made his way to the paddocks. King looked up with some mild interest as he walked over, Merle paused to give the big gelding a slap on the neck but kept on walking. Merle looked carefully at the fence between the stock and the orchard and gardens. He spotted the weak spot in the wire and looked around – no-one was paying attention and he smirked, emptying his pockets strategically. _It was a fine balance_ he knew, he had to be a distance away before anything happened so that the blame couldn't be apportioned to him. Samson of course would know it was him, but he wouldn't _know_ – Elijah wouldn't kick him out with some type of proof. He made his way past the horses, this time letting Marion's mad pet get a whiff of his fingers before leaving the paddock, the horse followed him to the gate and watched him over the landbridge before turning to follow Merle's scent across the paddock.

"Merle!" David paused, wiping his hands on a rag in futility given the amount of grease spread across them.

Merle sighed. "What'd ya do?"

David grinned slightly bashfully. "Well, you know how you said there was a problem with the tractor gasket?" He shrugged as Merle rolled his eyes. "I was kind of hoping that you might be able to help me fix it?"

"Got not'in' else ta do man," Merle shrugged and turned to follow David over to the machinery shed. Inwardly he smirked – David was learning but he wasn't good enough to see what Merle chose him not to see.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

The sun had set and they were all walking to the dining room before Marion saw 'her husband' again – although she almost ground her teeth at the thought of the title. She slowed her steps and he lengthened his, coming up behind her and casually touching her gently in the small of the back as she walked up the steps. She paused abruptly on the threshold however, Merle almost bumping into her. Dog growled.

"Merle," Samson nodded at him. "You took something today from the weapons store."

Marion took in the scene before her – Samson and the other men, some who were armed, standing in front of them: the women and Elijah behind the table. _This looks interesting._

The day had been somewhat of a peaceful one – for her at least. She had taken Hannah up to the kitchen, slowly, after her shower and Joanna had helped nurse little John while Hannah had rested in a chair with a glass of juice and some biscuits and Marion had heated up a bottle of formula. Deborah had pursed her lips somewhat, but she had her hands full with turkey _well more like the turkey was full of Deborah's hands _Marion smirked inwardly. It was Thanksgiving _apparently _and all the women were busy preparing the turkeys that had been slaughtered for this purpose and the accompaniments to go with them. Marion had worked around them, the day having no significance to her what so ever, much to the distress of Chloe who seemed to need her to be happy.

Little John had sucked down a whole bottle of formula like a pro and had subsided into sleep in the old fashioned bouncer at Hannah's feet. Josephine had come puffing in and for a moment Marion had thought another baby was on the way, but she'd announced that the goats were in the vegetable patch. The kitchen had emptied in a few seconds – all very aware of the damage that the goats could do in a short period of time– Deborah had looked at Marion and received a cold look, she had blinked, swallowed and then taken herself off.

"You are very angry aren't you Marion," said Hannah quietly after Josephine had also taken herself off, albeit at a much slower pace.

Marion snorted. "Honey, anger doesn't even come close to covering it."

"Why?"

"Why?" repeated Marion and winced inwardly at the slight note of hysteria. She took a breath and looked over at Hannah – the woman looked content, her cup in her still rounded lap and her foot idly rocking her son. "I've been married off to someone against my will – all for the purpose of making babies for a sad man who thinks he can re-create the Garden of Eden."

"But you _like _Merle," insisted Hannah.

"Like is a long way off wanting to make babies with," she grumbled back. She really didn't know what she felt about Merle, yes she liked him – although sometimes she would be quite happy to slap him around the head. She would admit to caring about his welfare, just the same – well maybe a little more – as she did for these people in the camp. But none of that accounted for what had happened in the kitchen those nights ago – nor the dream that followed the next morning _although of course that was just her subconscious putting images into a weird order – it wasn't like it _meant _anything_. She really hadn't had the luxury of being able to process the whole thing – there'd been too much action with Hannah's labour and then the whole procreation to save humanity issue. _Nor was now the time_ she decided. She looked instead to Hannah. "What about you – you and Caleb must have been married before all this started." _Of course, babies don't need marriage to come about..._

Hannah was nodding though. "I'd been here for a year before he arrived. He was a school teacher as well – agriculture. He came here to find himself after his brother had died of cancer – we just, well we just clicked. We married over a year ago – we weren't in a hurry to have children, Elijah and Ruth were clear that if we did that we would have to leave, the camp just wasn't set up for children – Joanna was the only one and she was almost a teenager. It happened of course, Elijah had helped set us up in a little cottage in town, Caleb was having an interview with the school principal – then the disease hit. We came straight back and Elijah let us back in."

Hannah's voice changed a little, trembling under the remembered stress. "It was horrible, watching people that you knew get sick, die and then come back as one of those... those things. Ruth..." she swallowed. "Pretty much everyone lost someone, Jo lost both her parents. I was so glad that Caleb had survived – we had each other. Then Samson came." She looked up at Marion. "Can you imagine what it's like to have to shoot someone that you'd lived with for years, people that you'd come to love?"

"Yes," said Marion baldly and Hannah flinched.

"Samson was trained for it," she continued after a slight pause. "Caleb was a _school teacher_ – he couldn't handle it. After the end of it, he just sort of collapsed inside himself, I couldn't reach him. He became hard, he became bitter." She looked down at Little John in the bouncer. "When Elijah came to us, told us what he thought we needed to do – Caleb was almost eager to do it, to get away from me. I think I scared him, reminded him of whom he used to be, of how much he had changed."

Marion felt a surge of sympathy for Hannah, and despite herself, for Caleb. She had killed her family, but each of them had been in the heat of the moment, an adrenilin filled moment of kill or be killed. She could understand how the cold blooded extermination would be a different, less justifiable, experience.

"So Elijah just plays matchmaker huh?" said Marion. "He doesn't...?"

"Oh no," Hannah shook her head. "Ruth was his life. When she died..." she shrugged. "If Samson hadn't come back, I'm not sure what we would have done. Elijah seemed to find himself with Samson around. Of course, I'm not sure that Samson would still stay – except for Deborah."

Marion looked at her. "A love triangle?"

Hannah nodded. "It's sad – I think Deborah always loved Elijah, but Ruth was the prettier, the more outgoing of the two. He never looked past her. And I wonder, I wonder if perhaps Samson has always loved Deborah?"

At the current moment Samson looked nothing like a man desperate with unrequited love – he looked like a soldier. He was looking over her shoulder, his hazel eyes resolute. She didn't have to look around to know that Merle's eyes were as resolute, although perhaps with a trace of a smirk in them and on his mouth.

"I didn't _take_ not'in'," he drawled. "I just got _back_ some of wha' was mine." _Oh definitely more than a trace of a smirk._

"You need to give it back Merle," said Samson firmly.

"Or wha'?" demanded Merle.

There was an instant distinctive sound as guns were cocked, lifted towards him. A large hand on her left hip gave her a distinct instruction – Marion obeyed the rightwards portion of the instruction but completely ignored the forward portion of it. She kept her back against him, her body almost entirely shielding him while still leaving his left arm with room to move, feeling his unspoken growl of 'woman!' with his sharo exhale of breath – and ignoring that too.

She heard the scrape of steel as Merle extracted his blade from its sheath _where the bloody hell had he been hiding that?_

Guns were lifted.

She lifted her chin _they would have to shoot through their precious conceptual vessel_.

Merle chuckled and out of her peripheral vision she saw his hand extend, the blade held harmlessly flat in its palm, before it tossed the blade in a gentle arc towards Samson, who snatched it effortlessly out of the air. He glared at

Merle for a couple of very still moments and behind her she felt Merle stiffen in a way that he hadn't before. Then Samson nodded and Elijah clapped his hands. Guns were lowered and the men turned towards the table.

Marion took a deep breath, then turned around to Merle. "Had some fun today did we?"

He smirked back at her, despite the edge to her tone. Apart from the resounding success of the goats, he had created some later, unrelated and unpredictable issues for the tractor. Then he had left a clear sign with Samson by snapping the padlock off the door and taking only his knife. She shook her head at him and preceded him to the table, pausing only momentarily as she realised that she and Merle had been moved towards the 'married' end of table. She moved the chair to sit beside Hannah, ignoring the slight growl that Merle gave her as he was seated next to Naomi – who looked almost ready to jump out of her skin as Merle pulled his chair out and plopped himself down. Marion's conscience got the better of her, she turned and placed a hand on his arm – but then Joanna swapped chairs with Naomi and she removed it without saying a word, leaving Merle to look at her in puzzlement.

"Our Father in Heaven," Elijah stood and intoned after the food had been distributed. "We give thanks for the pleasure of gathering together for this occasion. We give thanks for this food prepared by loving hands." Elijah's voice faltered slightly and Merle's knife scraped across the plate. "We give thanks for life, the freedom to enjoy it all and all other blessings. As we partake of this food," Merle's cutlery clattered as he put it back on his plate and picked up the leg bone and tore into it with his teeth. "We pray for health and strength to carry on and try to live as You would have us." Merle slurped at his drink. "This we ask in the name of Christ, Our Heavenly Father."

Merle belched loudly, smacking his lips together.

Elijah's voice gained some momentum. "We gather together to ask the Lord's blessing; He chastens and hastens his will to make known; The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing, sing praises to his name: He forgets not his own."

Merle shoveled a mouthful of peas in, chewing loudly.

"Beside us to guide us, our God with us joining, ordaining, maintaining his kingdom divine; So from the beginning the fight we were winning; Thou, Lord, wast at our side, All glory be thine!"

Merle picked up a crust of bread, sopping up the gravy on the plate and almost sucking it dry before returning the bread back to the plate to scrape up some more.

"We all do extol thee, thou leader triumphant, and pray that thou still our defender wilt be. Let thy congregation escape tribulation; Thy name be ever praised! O Lord, make us free!"

"Deb t'at was fuckin' delicious!" Merle gloated over-riding the 'Amen' response from the group. "Tha' was a great spread."

It was the sniff that undid him. Samson had gone from the marginally amused to the annoyed, Deborah had paled to a sickly white, Elijah had swelled in importance and the others were either glaring at him with hostility or crying. Even Joanna next to him was sitting very still. But none of that worried him – it was the sniff.

She'd put so much effort into the day, handmaking the stuffing from _his_ grandmother's recipe, putting the turkey in for a slow cook so that every corner of the house _all but reeked_ of the smell of the roasting bird. She'd peeled the potatoes, the pumpkin, skinned the onions, shelled the peas, trimmed the beans and carrots. She'd crushed the cranberries and mixed it with an off assortment of bottles and then chilled it so that it had the sort of jelly like consistency. Then she'd set the table with the white table cloth, found and polished _his_ family silver until he could see his face in the reflection. She gave _him_ the knife to carve the turkey and smiled, that smile which said how much she hoped that she'd got everything right this year. She hadn't. There was a grubby 9year old's fingerprint on the carving knife. _He_ went ballistic – she hit the wall with a thump and he grabbed the baby, holding him in the curve of his body as bits of turkey, vegetables, plates and cutlery flew throughout the room accompanied by screams and yells of abuse because _she'd fucked Thanskgiving up again_. Then later, when it was quiet, and she'd lifted the blankets and smiled at Daryl, his fingers stuffed halfway down his mouth, and held her hand out to him, her mouth swollen and blood still weeping from the cut in her brow. "Come on Merle baby," she sniffed – she never cried in front of him, however much she wanted to. "I saved you some turkey."

Marion pushed her chair away from the table and walked out of the room, there was a momentary silence and then Aaron and David pushed back their chairs and followed her out.

The aftertaste in his mouth turned to ashes.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

I found the 'prayers' on a website Christianity _dot _about _dot_ com. It does say to feel free to share with my family and friends – some of you are almost family, all of you are friends.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Merle heard a scampering step and Joanna pulled in next to his shoulder.

"Good morning Mr Merle," she said politely.

"Mornin'" he grunted back, his eyes narrowed.

"Where are you going?"

He glanced at her, but her tone was light. She wanted to know but she wasn't interrogating. "Just out tha back," he shrugged. "See if t'ere are any geeks out t'ere."

"Can I come?" she asked and he stopped, she was past him before she realised and had to back track.

"Wha'?" he demanded. "Why?'

She shrugged. "Why not?"

Merle glared down at her, she looked back up at him fearlessly _damn bitch spent too much time around the other bitch_ he decided. _So this was going to be his guard – clever prick._ He nodded once and turned to walk again, Joanna _bouncing_ next to him, prattling away.

Marion hadn't wanted to talk much the night before. He'd come into the tent after the end of the meal, she'd been curled up in the bed feigning sleep. Dog had growled at him a little more loudly than normal and he'd taken a closer look at her face, it looked slightly red. She'd been crying. _Oh classy work _had crowed that voice inside his head. _Make the only woman who's on your side cry_. "Marion" he'd said quietly "I brought you something to eat" but she hadn't moved. Dog however had suddenly become very sociable and Merle had disrobed in silence except for noise of perfectly good turkey being wasted on the dog. She was stiff to his touch, and half rolled onto her belly, facing away from him. He'd sighed and lay out on his back, staring at the tent until finally he'd gone to sleep.

She hadn't spoken to him when she'd left the tent to feed the horses and knowing that she was angry with him he hadn't followed her to the shower, instead going for a walk around the camp, taking a look at the new padlock that had been placed on the door and the dour face of Amos perched on a chair next to it. He'd lost several years off his life as he'd walked back into the tent, glowering at Aaron who seemed to have scored the morning guard duty, and being met by the sight of Marion, dressed only in her bra and jeans – holding a knife to her wrist.

"Wha' tha fuck?" he demanded, covering the distance in quick strides and snatching the blade from her hand. "Ya optin' out or somethin' bitch?"

Marion started "Of course I'm not," she said indignantly, her chest swelling.

Merle couldn't help himself _Fuck she had a good rack_.

Marion turned and picked up her shirt, dragging it over her head.

"Well wha' tha fuck are ya doin' wit' a knife?" he demanded, still holding it in his hand – a simple kitchen knife, but sharp enough to do damage.

"I thought," she blushed a little, her voice small. "I thought that they might want proof."

Merle frowned _proof_ and looked down at the table, the bowl in front of her and the other supplies that she had on it.

"I thought you were out, playing your games," she added a little defiantly.

"So wha' tha fuck else can I do?" he asked harshly, hearing criticism in her voice. "Ya want me ta just roll over and take it?"

"Of course I don't Merle," she stilled him with a hand on his arm. "I understand – this is how you fight."

"So why were you pissed wit' me?"

She raised her brows, then sighed. "I wasn't pissed with you," he snorted. "I was _upset_ with you. You were... vulgar. Last night was an important night to those people and you pretty much shat all over it. My argument is with Elijah and Deborah and their demented scheme – and Samson for being too weak to stop them. Not the others."

He got it. She was wrong of course, every single one of them here were to blame – but he understood that she didn't assign blame that way. _She didn't fight that way_. He nodded.

Marion frowned, pulling back her sleeve and offering him her wrist. "Can you do it for me please? I'm a bit worried about cutting too deep."

Merle snorted, putting the blade between his teeth and lifting his foot onto the table.

His ankle was still sore as he trudged with Joanna through the paddocks. _Tha girl could talk_ he thought, but at least she wasn't requiring much input from him. He let it wash over him, it was full of stuff about the farm and the weather she was expecting – given the coldness already she thought that snow was a possibility. She could see a whole range of things to do in the snow, he knew that when it was the end of the world that snowball fights and toboggan rides wouldn't be high on the priority list and that snow only presented an absence of game, dangerous cold and more danger. _Of course, the good ol' methane express would be magic down that big hill that he and Marion rode down_ he grinned in memory of youthful days with his buddies in the northern mountains.

The growl was almost halfhearted and he almost missed it. Joanna was paying no attention to her surroundings, covering all other sounds with her prattle. "Ssh," he said insistently, swinging his stump across her chest to stop her. She gasped, and blushed, at his touch but he had no time for that – looking around and focusing on the sounds. There was no stock in their immediate vicinity, he looked around and located them about 50yards away – all looking in their direction. _All hail the might tracker, so in tune with nature's symbols – walking straight into a feeding frenzy! _He could hear some type of sucking sound, a rougher sound _like the gnashing of teeth_. "Git back girly," he snapped suddenly. "Git back ta camp – bring tha guns."

"Why?" she whispered, suddenly pale and a little afraid.

"There's geeks out 'ere," he replied and stepped forward slowly. The grass was so long out here that he couldn't see below his knees and there was nothing distinct in front of him. A hand came forward and grabbed onto his belt and he turned. "Git," he ordered, albeit in a low voice. Joanna shook her head, her whole body trembling. He growled in frustration, turning back to the front. He didn't want to go until he knew how many they were – he didn't want to go at all, if he took his eyes off them and they moved... But he could feel her trembling through her grip which had moved to his stump. _Hell_. "Come on," he said and turned.

Joanna screamed as the geek, fresh blood from where he'd buried his head into whatever he had killed rose out of the grass not three yards away from them. It groaned at the sight and smell of fresher meat and took a step. Merle flung the girl behind him and lashed out with this fist, catching the geek on the side of its head and knocking it over, then stamping on its head once, twice and three times until his heel cracked through the skull and the thing died _for a second time_.

He was expecting the second one, it rose from the carcass of the sheep that it was feeding off – splattered with blood around its face and up its arms. What he didn't expect was the second carcass _sheep were fuckin' dumb_ that he tripped backwards over as he tried to draw it away from Joanna or the third geek that he landed next to. He swung his legs up and rolled all the way over and back onto his feet, reaching automatically for his knife. _Fuck_. The geek leaned in towards him, getting to its feet with almost normal dexterity and reached out. Merle hit it once across the side of its head, careful to back away from the gnashing teeth and anything that might damage his skin. The thing flinched, but kept coming – the damn thing looked almost brand new. Its clothes, while dirty, weren't at all ragged and there was no sign of decay – just the un-coordinated step and the white film over its eyes to announce it was a geek. _Oh and the fact that he wants to eat you_.

He slammed his fist into it again and again, it was still coming and he was running out of room – the fence was within a few steps. He lifted his foot and kicked out – the thing caught his foot between its hands and he went down hard. The thing landed on top of him, its teeth wide open as it reached in to grab at his throat. He pushed with his hand underneath its neck – pushing upwards – but the thing was strong, in life it would have been about the same size as Merle and in death it seemed to have strength and an obsession which could not be denied. He hammered at it with his stump, holding its head back. He felt the pressure in his stomach and grimaced _the fuckin' t'ing was tryin' ta gut him_ and he pushed up harder, trying to get some distance between those clawing hands and his belly. It wasn't working – he lifted his leg up to try and dislodge it, but it could smell his blood and nothing was moving it.

The tree branch came swinging out of nowhere and the thing fair bounced off him. He rolled away from it, jumping to his feet while the thing was still unsteady. He kicked out – his boot landing in its temple and it dropped to the ground. He lifted his foot again and stamped again and again and again. A movement caught his eye and he whirled, grabbing the branch and stabbing it through the third geek's eye. It crumpled to the ground and he stood still for a few moments, waiting and looking. _Clear_.

He looked at Joanna, quivering as she stared at the bloody mess in front of her, still breathing hard.

"Ya did good Miss Jo," he nodded.

She started to shake, tears welled up in her eyes and then she started screaming.

"Hey!" he yelled at her, looking around for more geeks. He stepped forward and reached out to grab her – she backpeddled still screaming. "Hey!" he yelled again and this time he did grab her, pulling her close to him and wrapping his good hand around her mouth. She bucked and kicked, still screaming under his hand and a lucky kick landed on his knee – he grunted in pain and she broke free, still screaming.

_Fuck_ he thought and took the last option open to him.

There was a crowd waiting when he carried her unconscious body out of the paddock. Samson met him at the gate, his eyes hard and the rifle on his shoulder. "Ya need ta fuckin' kill 'em wit' a 'ead shot," he snapped, "or at tha very least not lead 'em direct back ta camp "all but throwing the girl's frame at Abraham. Samson blinked but that was the limit to his reaction and Merle nodded in satisfaction. "I'm goin' ta wash tha geek blood off me if any o' ya want ta watch," and he stalked off up the hill, hearing _the Major_ give orders to the men and head out into the paddock.

The hot water scalded his skin but he didn't care – he had geek blood and gore all over him and he was still a little spooked. _That had been close – too close_. He needed his weapons. He tipped his face up into the stream and opened his mouth, letting the water wash out the stench that had somehow accumulated in there. There was the sound of feet approaching and with a sigh he turned off the water, reaching for the towel and wrapping it around his waist turning to meet his accuser.

Dog padded in.

"Merle?" her voice was uncertain.

"Here," he confirmed and she walked in with her eyes delicately lowered to the ground. "I'm decent," he added and her eyes flicked up immediately. A slight colour washed over her face, _perhaps her definition of decent excludes the sight of short and curlies_, but she kept coming forward, her eyes examining him carefully. His body started to react automatically but he knew what she was doing. "I'm fine," he said. "It got close but t'at's it."

Marion breathed a sigh of relief, stopping a metre or so away from him. "What happened?"

"Geeks got into tha stock paddock," he shrugged and turned to where his clothes were. He gave her a brief run down of what happened as he dropped his towel, rubbing his hair and then body vigorously before looking in some disgust at his clothes. _Well that was intelligent_ he thought in disgust and pulled the towel back around his waist. He smirked at the sight of Marion's back, her neck somewhat red. "I had ta shut tha kid up," he ended close behind her.

"You _punched_ Joanna?" she gasped, turning quickly but retreating half a step at the sight of his naked chest right there in front of her. The horror in her tone was like a punch to his gut.

"I 'ad no ot'er option," he snapped angrily back at her.

"Oh Merle," she shook her head and she was gone, Dog running behind her.

_Told ya_.

They came for him about an hour later. He had made his way to the tent and dressed in clean clothes, he hadn't even bothered bringing the others back with him. They could rot as far as he was concerned. The horror in her voice was eating at him _What else was he meant to do_ he wondered as he paced the tent. The girl had been screaming _really screaming_ – she had panicked, she was having some type of fit. She'd fought him – it wasn't like he could _talk_ her out of it.

"Merle," said Samson – not asking, just letting him know, because they walked straight in. Samson and Elijah. He felt the kitchen knife hard against his back and his hand twitched.

Elijah walked forward and reached out both hands, literally taking Merle's between them. Intense hazel eyes met mistrustful blue ones. "God bless you Merle," he all but worshipped. "Thankyou."

Merle was thrown off guard and his eyes flicked to Samson, whose own hazel eyes now had a twinkling of amusement in them.

"Joanna is precious to everyone here, we would have mourned her loss greatly even though we know that she would have been walking with the Lord," Elijah continued gushing and it clicked into place for Merle. _They thought that he had rescued Joanna. _"I trust that this heralds you joining us within the fold."

_Fuck that_ he thought, but he offered a trace of a smile and a nod. That was enough for Elijah who beamed back at him and turned away, preceding Samson from the tent.

"They were not nice men," Samson said quietly. "You would not have wanted them near Marion."

Merle looked at the man and nodded once. He got it – Marion wouldn't it, but he did. The rules of the world had changed and what before was reprehensible was just now a survival mechanism. Samson nodded in return and turned away, presenting Merle with a perfect target. But he kept his hands still and the tent flap closed again, leaving him alone.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

There were smiles waiting for him at the table that night. Joanna even gave him a smile, although it was a wan one (not that he recognised the signs of a massive headache). There was a definite shadow to her lower jaw and he felt a twinge of guilt which, coupled with Marion's raised brow and very pointed look, made him lean over. "T'anks Miss Joanna – ya helped me out today."

She smiled at him again, this one warmer. "I'm sorry I acted so silly Mr Merle. I was just so... so scared."

He nodded and absently patted her on the shoulder with his stump while reaching for the plate of food in front of him. "Ya did good," he repeated, oblivious to the look in her eye as she looked up at him. He took the plate from Marion and held it while she took their portion off it and then he turned, holding it for Joanna while the girl served herself before passing it onto Naomi. The baby made a noise and Marion ducked down to him as his mother turned – Merle turned to his left, meeting Caleb's eyes over the top of two women. His eyes narrowed as he took in the slight shadow and swelling around the man's left eye. The man flushed and looked back at his plate.

"Ya got somet'in' ta tell me 'bout ya day woman?" he muttered as she came back upwards.

She looked at him in surprise and he flicked his eyes once to where Caleb was seated. She followed his gaze and a slight smile teased at her lips. "Just a little disagreement about personal space boundaries," she shrugged. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

He nodded and turned to his meal. She placed her hand on his arm and he lowered his fork, waiting for Elijah to finish his prayer, in which he featured heavily, before commencing. Joanna staggered somewhat as she rose from the table and he reached out to catch her, she smiled somewhat woozily at him and he quickly transferred her to Deborah and Chloe as they came up to her. He grabbed Marion's arm in the crook of his stump and took her for bed.

"Next time Merle," she said quietly when they were alone. "Use your open hand – you only need to shock a hysterical woman, not knock her out."

"Next time woman," he countered and reached for her hand. "Tuck ya fingers into 'ere first b'fore ya fold 'em over into a fist and t'en fold ya t'umb ova t'ese knuckles. It'll give ya a 'arder fist and won't 'urt ya as much."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..


	42. Chapter 42

A note of explanation from the last chapter – the geeks Merle encountered were those that Samson 'dealt with' back in chapter 36 not knowing that you don't have to be bitten to come back. Hence Merle's words at the gate and then Samson's in the tent.

I'm going to lean towards calling this chapter M rated because there are a few buzz words and somewhat more of a hint of a sexual nature. It may not quite crack the threshold, but please if you think that this type of subject is not for you, skim over the relevant sections. It is (I know regrettably for some of you) short in duration.

Chapter 42

"Give me _something_ to do," cried Marion. "_Please?_ I'm going to go bonkers without something to keep me occupied."

She had been relatively busy, if never alone, for the past week. She had been permitted to continue with her normal duties of feeding the horses and had assisted Hannah with Little John until that magic day when her body finally realised what its job was meant to be – with a full stomach the baby was now operating on a clockwork routine and sleeping soundly. Hannah was able to plan her day around him fairly easily and didn't need as much assistance as in the early days. Chloe had Jebadiah settled into his new surroundings and while he was starting to make motions, he hadn't put it all together into an actual forward (or backward) movement. The winter had officially arrived – by date if not by actual change in temperature. There had been another day with icy rain, but the modifications to the camp and the supplies brought back from town that day were enough that all survived with a minimal of fuss, although the barn roof was scrutinised pretty heavily. All of the chores required for getting set for winter had been pretty much concluded and it was only the mundane chores – cooking, washing, cleaning that really were required.

Of course though, even imaginary menstrual cycles couldn't last forever, especially since she was bleeding Merle for it each day. She couldn't be sure that anyone was actually checking, but she wouldn't take the chance and each morning Merle had lifted his foot and put another slice in the prominent veins and arteries in his ankle. But that had stopped yesterday morning when Merle had made his way into her shower.

She'd heard his gruff voice saying something smart to Aaron who was on duty through the water and frowned, moving to the curtain to look out. Her eyes had lit up and her mouth twitched as he'd walked in, his eyes closed and his hand out in front of him, a pile of clothes under his stump.

"Woman?" he'd whispered.

"Here," she called back quietly and he'd turned, his eyes still closed and walking uncertainly. "I'm decent," she added and his eyes opened. "What are you doing?"

"Ya decent behind there?" he'd asked, his hand reaching for the curtain.

"No," she shook her head.

He froze and then looked over his shoulder. "Let me in," he said, his eyes having closed again.

"Not a snowflake's Merle," she said firmly. It had been bad enough that she was entirely naked behind the curtain, let alone having him in with her.

His eyes had opened again. He had reached down and pulled off his boot. "I can't shower wit' tha ot'ers wit' t'is, David was already lookin' yestaday."

She had looked down at his ankle. The multiple cuts had caused an almost bruised effect – his whole ankle was a shade of purple.

"Besides – it'll keep 'em off our backs," he added.

"I swear Merle, if you so much as..." she had warned him, but he was already nodding and had his eyes closed. She pulled her towel against her and stepped to the side as he came through the curtain. "There's a bench behind you," she'd said.

Since then she had found her activities curtailed somewhat, although the horses were still hers because of Toby's reaction to anyone else walking food into the paddock. All her free time she was expected to be lying down in her tent _recruiting her strength_ as Deborah phrased it.

Deborah now looked at her with her slightly haughty expression. "You should be concentrating on making a baby."

"Well that's a bit bloody tricky isn't it?" Marion swung a hand at the empty tent, well if one excluded Dog spreadeagled across the bed with his legs in the air, behind her. She realised her mistake as the words left her mouth – Deborah's expression changing somewhat before she turned to walk away.

"Crap," groaned Marion as she retreated back into the tent. It was lucky to be fifteen minutes before she heard his strides, his smart arse comment to Abraham standing outside the tent and then the tent flap opened and he was inside with her.

He was not happy.

"I'm sorry!" she said quickly. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean for you..."

Over the last few days he'd been given a fair amount of freedom, although after one day of rest he had been shadowed mostly everywhere by Joanna. She would meet him after breakfast and accompany him down to the machinery shed where, after a while, she had almost become useful to him while he undertook maintenance on the various battery arrays, generators and other machines. David was often there as well and he would tease the girl unmercifully until Merle had to step in, feeling a bit like a parent whenever he did so. Samson had even let him have his knife back for a short time, while they went on a wide perimeter outside the camp, looking for and dispatching a number of geeks that had managed to stray a bit too close after following the road that the truck had taken. Samson had reclaimed the knife, but he'd patted Merle's shoulder.

He was almost feeling guilty about the tractor accident. _Almost_. It hadn't killed or even injured anyone. There was just one less row of trees and young Ben wouldn't be climbing behind the wheel anytime soon.

"You know why we're fuckin' 'ere?" he hissed at her, glaring only briefly at Dog as he growled. _Did she know how hard it was to keep his hands to himself when he was around her?_ It had been increasingly difficult each night as they retired to bed, her body warm against his _all _night – because they hadn't gone so far as to include him back in the watch roster. They'd both gotten used to his body wakening every morning before his mind but last _night_ his body had been quite insistent about the most appropriate course of action – he'd had to sleep on his belly. But he had woken to find her pressed up against him, her breasts squished into his arm and back, her cheek on his forearm, her breath soft against the back of his head. It had made for an uncomfortable wakening.

"Of course I do," she snapped back at him. "_I_ have calculated intelligence!"

For a moment he glared at her, a head shorter than him but glaring right back with her chin thrust forward defiantly, but then he snorted and laughed, her own face relaxed and she giggled, her eyes sparkling. She put a hand forward onto his chest and he lost the ability to breathe. He bent down and kissed her, her mouth was open with her laugh and he took full advantage and slid his tongue in. _She's going to snap you._

She stayed still as his hand came around her waist, the stump dropping just a bit to cup her backside. But then she moved – lifting up on her toes, pushing her hips against his and he felt her own sensitive region against his hardness as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her tongue flicked over his, then followed his back, tracing and tasting his mouth.

_This can't be happening _he thought. The groan came from somewhere near his boots and his stump closed even tighter on her, pushing her into him. His hand moved a little, finding the gap between her shirt and skin and easing up into it, feathering against the skin as he slowly worked his way up. His thumb rubbed over smooth fabric – immediately he felt her nipple thrust itself out for more attention. He obliged and she gasped, he left her mouth and traced his own around her cheekbone to her ear, gently nibbling it and feeling the shivers up and down her spine as she all but moaned into his ear. His hand moved again, down and she moaned a protest, but it stopped at the bottom of her shirt and moved back up again, this time bringing the fabric with it. Her arms lifted for him and he got it as far as her head, but gave up when his tug merely skewed the fabric, dropping his hand back to the now exposed flesh to introduce his mouth to the area.

Her shirt hit the ground and then her hands were at his waist and she was tugging at his own shirt. He lifted his own arms, feeling her hands either side of his chest as she pulled it up – but she left it surrounding his head and the next thing he felt was her mouth over his nipple, sucking it to a point and then teasing it with her teeth.

"Fuck" he puffed as he yanked the shirt off, his head rolling back for a few moments. The desire was too strong though and he grabbed her chin, pulling her back up to his mouth. His hand made its way around to her back, hers left the back of his shoulders to assist but he smirked and with a practised flick of his fingers unhooked the catches on her bra. She laughed into his mouth and her hands traced over his back, finding and fiddling with a scar with gentle fingers that sent shivers tracking around him.

_He'll pull out before... wouldn't make her pregnant_ he thought as he slid the bra off her to slither between their feet. His hand closed gently over her breast, teasing its nipple with the rough end of a finger.

_It ain't happening._

_Of course it will,_ he snapped _it fuckin' is!_

_Calculated intelligence_ imaginary Daryl tapped his finger to his temple, that narrowed eyed glare sharpening his features. _Why the fuck would she be doing this – in the middle of the day – with a guard outside the tent? She could have done this in the shower – when ya was alone and naked._

He hadn't really been confident that she would let him in, nor that she would trust him to sit there. It had almost killed him, hearing the water bounce off her softness before hitting the tiles on the ground. But he'd kept his eyes closed. She'd finished showering and had dressed, no doubt while watching him very carefully. She'd replaced him on the bench and he'd looked at her. "Well it's going to look strange if I come out without you isn't it?" She hadn't peeked either, much to his disappointment.

_It had been the perfect opportunity._

He heard the footsteps clearly then. The tent flap opened and he spun around, shielding the half naked woman behind him. The laughter exploded in his head _How dumb can ya be? _and his voice was savage as he stalked towards the tent flap "Wha'? Ya goin' ta score us or somet'in'?" Aaron backed out of the tent with a muttered apology and Merle stalked after him, listening to the whispered explanation outside the tent. "That outta keep 'em happy for a while," he muttered, forcing himself to stay turned away from her. There was silence and then a sniff. _Fuck, he'd made her cry, he'd taken it too far._

"Right," Marion forced out, turning away from him and reaching down to the ground to pick up her bra and put it on, biting her lip as her fingers fumbled.

"I shouldn't have..." he said quietly from behind her, pulling on his shirt.

Marion nodded, fighting for control of her voice. "It's alright. As you say – that'll keep them happy for a couple of days." She heard the tent flap close and Merle's smart arse comment to Abraham (maybe Aaron as well) and dropped to her knees, burying her head into the blankets. Dog whined and eased closer to her, nudging at her ear. She raised her head enough to drag him closer, putting her face against him, his coat catching her tears. _It was only a physical thing_ she thought, she'd known that he physically wanted her, had since he had first seen her. But she hadn't realised he could be so damn cold about it; it was obvious that _he__ didn't want__ her_. 

There'd been an explosion in her belly as his tongue touched hers, almost tentatively as if he was waiting for her to push him away. And she knew that was what she should have done but _calculated intelligence be fucked – this was all instinct_ her body had shouted over her mind. For once she was going to let herself go, give into this tension that seemed to hover between them like Dumbo the flying elephant. She was going to shelve the feelings of guilt at the thought of moving on with her life, she was going to have _some of that_. Because she could no longer deny the fact that she wanted him, that physically at least he could push all the right buttons – and that was from a distance. Up close he could more than push them, he rotated and flipped them as well.

So maybe this was her punishment.

She sniffed and wiped her eyes, giving Dog a hug. At least this would give her some traction with her plan. _Silver linings Marion – silver linings._

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"He's a little coarse for me – a bit rough you know," she said with a little bit of melancholy.

"He hurts you?" Joanna's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Oh no," Marion shook his head. "He's just so dominant, so _masterful_. My husband – he treated me like a princess, he was so much gentler."

"But surely – if he knows what to do..." Joanna said hesitantly.

"Oh there's no problem with that," Marin chuckled. "He does _everything _right. But he wants it _all the time_. Mornings, night-times, even in the middle of the day – I'm exhausted!"

"Surely – when you're pregnant?"

Marion laughed again. "Oh sweety – a man like that doesn't worry about a big belly getting in the way. He'll just lift me up on top him or flip me over. I don't know if I can cope with another 11 months of this. I'm thinking that perhaps someone else..."

"But Merle won't take anyone else," Joanna miffed a little.

"His sense of obligation is too big," nodded Marion and Joanna's face cleared a little. "For some reason he thinks I am his responsibility. It'll only get worse if I get pregnant. A Dixon won't leave his child," she added with perfect sincerity as Joanna looked at her in puzzlement. "What would Elijah do with him if I...?" Marion asked her hesitantly

"He would send him out," she said flatly and Marion's heart chilled a little.

"I don't want to see him hurt Jo, it's just that..." she left it hanging and hoped that her judgement was correct.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"He can't stay Samson," she said bitterly.

"I know," Samson nodded, holding his head in his hands.

The fight had gotten out of control. Amos had said something, Merle had said something smart back and Amos had responded likewise – Merle hadn't bothered with words after that. There had been four of them in there by the time that Aaron and Samson had been able to break it off. Amos had a broken arm, Barnabas had a broken leg, Emmanual had three broken ribs. Joanna had got caught in the crossfire and she was nursing a bloody lip. Merle had managed to inflict all that damage without any broken bones, but his shoulder had been dislocated and he was covered with cuts, grazes and what would be bruises. He'd let Samson help him put his shoulder back in but had refused any other medical attention and Marion had literally had to block his way out of the tent before he had allowed her to do it. He was now out walking the perimeter, hoping to encounter a geek that he could take his anger out on.

"He's going to get himself killed soon," continued Marion, leaning forward towards him. "And he's just as likely to take someone out with him."

"Elijah won't let you go," Samson told her.

"I understand that," she nodded, her eyes clear and firm.

"I'm sorry Marion – this isn't working out how I hoped," Samson threw himself back into his chair.

"What did you think was going to happen Samson? That he'd give in and just become one of you?" she snorted at his rather rueful expression and sat back in her chair. "You don't know him very well – he will never give in, just on principle if nothing else."

"I have seen so many of him in service Miss Marion," he mused. "Younger than him obviously – but from his background. Hard lives, full of struggle, drugs, alcohol, abuse – all of that. The Corp either made them – or it broke them." He shrugged. "The ones it made – they were the best soldiers that you ever found. They were strong, reliable, loyal to a fault – plus they retained that bit of mongrel that made them great soldiers. Merle wasn't broken by the Corp – I think it made him, he just won't admit it."

"So you thought being made into a father would make him admit it?" she sniffed.

Samson looked up at her. "I thought perhaps the love of a good woman..."

Marion stared at him, then forced a laugh. "I don't love him Samson – not like that," she said finally. "He _is_ a good man – yes – but me and Merle? You must be crazy. The plan was always to go to Fort Benning, find someone who could get me home and get the fuck out of this bloody country."

Samson continued looking at her for several seconds, then he nodded with a slight smile on his lips. "He won't go without you."

"Can you get him out of here?" she asked.

"He won't leave without you Marion," he repeated.

Marion leant in again. "If I can make him go Samson," he sat up straighter. "Will you get him out of here – safely?"

"You can do that?" he asked. "You'd do that?"

She nodded once – letting him take it for an answer for both questions.

Samson nodded.

"I'm going to need some help."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

She'd been angry with him since the fight, Merle realised as he stalked back from the barn. She had mopped up his blood, wiped over the cuts, even tried to bandage up some of his injuries until her had told her in no uncertain terms that she would not be doing that. But her face had been disapproving – he remembered her earlier words on who she blamed for their predicament. She'd had a go at him when she caught him shaving his head with his blade – just because he'd made a comment about getting rid of what would be his nigga 'fro. Then there had been the second tractor incident, which had been more significant than the first and there had been a few minor injuries – Hannah amongst them. He'd seen in her eyes that she knew it was him who had caused it and his smirk had died under the cold distain that she sent him. The final blow he thought though had been when Hannah had refused to let her take the baby away – the woman's eyes had flicked to him. Marion had been upset about that 'As if I would hurt the baby,' she had wavered. She had looked at him and flinched away. _That _had been uncalled for, hurting kids was way past his lines in the sand – although perhaps _threatening_ to hurt a kid wasn't.

She was suffering in the camp – because of him. And she knew it.

She still slept next to him, but she was stiffer than before, selfish with her warmth and she spent most nights on her belly as far away from him as she could – whether that was anger or just a management control against his body he couldn't be sure. She was also starting to speak to Elijah more – at dinner she had actually _agreed with the prick_ over something, he couldn't remember what – well he'd stopped listening to them fairly early on in the piece, talking instead to Joanna.

_She's figured out she's got a better chance here without you_ said the sardonic voice inside his head.

He had no come back on that one. The scene in the barn had pretty much sealed it. He couldn't have been more surprised – well maybe if it had been Caleb he would have been more surprised – the sight of Marion and David interlocked against the wall had literally rooted him to the spot. He'd actually taken half a step forward, ready to rip him off her but then her hands had snaked around his neck and he'd stopped suddenly. Another second had left him in no doubt that she was there by choice and enjoying herself, he'd whirled without further thought.

Samson looked up as he burst into the tent he shared with Elijah, reaching for a gun automatically as he took in the expression on Merle's face. Merle ignored the movement, continuing his stride past where the man sat, turning around and striding back to the front of the tent, before turning around again and finally plopping himself down on Elijah's bed. Samson had removed his hand from the gun somewhere during the process and was now looking at Merle with something akin to sympathy.

"I ain't goin' ta make tha woman pregnant," said Merle gruffly. _Ya still protecting her? _"Ya goin' ta kill me or wha'?"

"I don't want to," Samson shook his head. "But will you give me any choice?"

"I'll go," nodded Merle.

"By yourself?" Samson said sceptically.

An image of Marion plastering herself all over David came to mind. "Yes," he snarled.

"Really?" insisted Samson. "You were most adamant about not leaving without her."

"Well locking me in tha tent wit' tha broad made me change me mind dinnit?" returned Merle savagely. "I'm betta on me own."

"Stay," Samson leaned forward. "Stay with us Merle – you could fit in if you tried. We could use you here."

Merle was shaking his head. "I never fit in Samson – never, not since I was a kid. Ya know how long I lasted wit' tha Marines? Twenty whole months," he saw Samson frown. "Tha other sixteen were in tha Brig, Quantico," he snorted as Samson's eyes closed. "There ain't a group for me – I'm betta on me own." He paused. "Wha' 'bout you? Ya don't belong 'ere eit'er."

Samson offered him a sad smile. "Maybe not. But this is where my brother is – I can't leave him. You understand that? Plus," he added in a softer tone. "There's Deborah."

_Dumb fucker_.

"What will you do?" asked Samson.

"Head to Fort Benning," Merle shrugged. "See what is t'ere now, if t'ere's anyone come back. Try and track me brot'er down – it's what we was doin' b'fore we found ya little summer camp."

"I can't give you much," started Samson.

"I don't want not'in'," interrupted Merle. "I'll take me guns, me clothes."

"And you'll just walk out the gate?" Samson still sounded a bit sceptical.

Merle shrugged. "Ya could drive me to tha car."

Samson blinked and then he sat back and laughed.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

He felt the woman stir against him, her body clock waking her ready for her chores. He had rolled onto her during the night, his stump across her back and her arm trapped under his chest – if it had been a different day he would have stayed still to enjoy the sensations that her hand was going to generate as soon as it moved. But not today. He pulled his arm back over and rolled himself out of the bed.

"What you doing?" she enquired sleepily.

"Goin' outside wit' Samson," he said gruffly. He reached for a set of clothes and at the last moment remembered that these weren't his clothes – they were in a bag with the rest of his stuff in the footwell of Samson's truck. He instead picked up the clothes he'd worn the day before, knowing that her nose was crinkled in disgust. "Be back about dark."

"Be careful," she said from next to him and he turned to see that she had stood up, her hair tousled from sleep, clad in one of those all encompassing dresses that didn't quite manage to hide her curves properly.

_She'd say that to anyone._

He couldn't help himself – he grabbed her and pulled her close. His kiss was hard –full of the anger and the hurt that he felt, feelings that he couldn't express – well not to her. He wanted her to be safe, he wanted her to be happy and he knew that couldn't happen with him – and for the first time in his life he regretted that.

Dog growled and he tasted salt on his lips. _Fuck he had made her cry again_. He dropped her and turned, stalking out into the pre-dawn without another word or backward glance.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Samson drove in silence – taking one look at Merle's set face as he climbed into the truck and wisely deciding that it was safer. The camp faded into the background as the truck chugged away, it took longer for the vehicle to get to the road than it had for them to walk in a month ago – he snorted as Samson carefully checked left and right and then left again before pulling onto the road. He directed him along the road for a few miles, then off to the left where there had been a fire trail until they arrived at the location of the F350.

Samson nodded in admiration as he took in the hide that Merle had set up around the car and then put to demolishing it. "Will it still drive?" he asked curiously.

"It got t'is far," shrugged Merle, leaning in and popping the hood. "I'll take it down ta tha town – t'ere was a garage t'ere and it looked pretty well stocked. I'll be able ta beat tha panels back into place, fix anyt'ing else t'at may give me hassle."

"Are you sure? I thought that the town had been over-run?" Samson sounded concerned.

Merle nodded, poking around in the bush until he found the hose. "T'ere's ways in. Tha garage is still secure – I cleaned it out good last time I was t'ere. I got tha key – I'll get in t'ere and close it up tight. Tha Ford'll take care of 'em on tha way out." he was quiet for several moments as he reattached the hose and the battery leads. Samson opened the door and turned the key, Merle reached in to pump some more gas and the car roared into life. He kept the throttle open for almost a full minute before he nodded in satisfaction and put the hood down.

Samson extracted his length from the car and for a moment contemplated Merle. He seemed to shake himself. "Well Marine – it's been good to know you" and he extended his left hand.

Merle smirked and reached his own hand out, "You too Samson..." a thought struck him and he lowered his hand slightly.

Samson smiled, his own hand still out. "Yes actually it is Malcolm." Merle's eyes continued the question. "And Elijah was christened as Gordon."

Merle snorted and took his hand, shaking it. "Stick wit' Samson," he advised and Samson laughed, but it died with Merle's next words. "Look after tha woman Samson."

"Of course Merle," he nodded soberly. "She's safe with us – she'll be happy." Merle grunted and went to move past him into the car. Samson's hand on his chest stopped him. "It's not too late Merle – you could come back."

Merle shook his head. "Always said tha woman could make 'er own choices" as if that was an answer to Samson's suggestion. And it was enough, Samson nodded once sadly and stepped out of the way, closing the door behind Merle as he got himself seated.

"God bless," murmured Samson. Merle snorted _Like that would ever happen _and flicked the gears – the wheels spun in the forest floor as he returned along the track to the bitumen. He paused at the intersection _she's made her choice brother_ and the wheels squealed as he turned away from camp towards the town.

It took him a couple of hours to get to the town, the 'as the crow flies' distance much smaller than the circular route that he had to take the car. His stomach was reminding him that he hadn't stayed around for breakfast as he came to its outskirts. He dropped the car out of gear and coasted down the slight hill, braking and sitting in silence for a couple of moments. Nothing came, _the quiet before the storm_ he thought with a smirk and pushed himself out of the car and then into the back of it. He untied the 50cal from the tyre and lowered it to the ground, but paused before he got out and flipped one of the lids of the containers. He stared at the booze _the deal was null and void after all_ but he decided that now was not the time. He replaced it and flipped another _fuckin' irony_ he snarled, but reached in to pick out a chocolate. The night time temperatures which had chilled it had not yet been overwhelmed by the warm sun and the chocolate was slightly hard still as he bit into it. He savoured the taste in silence for a few seconds, then he grunted to himself and fixed up the lid before jumping down to the ground. He manhandled the gun to the front of the car, then returned to find some of the ammunition. He loaded it up with the longest chain of bullets that he could find, spreading it out as straight as he could to minimise the potential for jamming. He hammered the couple of sticks that he'd thrown into the truck earlier into the ground either side of the barrel and twisted the gun left and right to test its range of motion. He squatted down to sight down the barrel, adjusting the weapon until it was at the right angle.

A growl sounded and he straightened, pulling the silenced weapon out and shooting the approaching geek between the eyes. He didn't have time to play.

He turned back to the car and started it, grabbed a screwdriver out from his kit, and pushed the heel of his hand square on the horn.

They came out from the woodwork. Limping, stumbling, dragging forms with limbs missing, flesh eaten from ribs and other extremities. They growled in hunger as they sighted him and their pace increased. He kept his hand on the horn until the closest of them was within fifteen yards – then he moved quickly to the gun, leaning down and pulling the trigger. The 50cal was a powerful weapon – it literally cut the forerunners of the glitch in half. Further away the bullets thudded into flesh, some they hit in the head and the geeks dropped to the ground to move no more. The majority however did keep moving, in a fashion – some were reduced to moaning torsos that dragged themselves across the ground, still eager for a taste of his flesh.

Merle let himself stand for several seconds, knowing that the sound of the gun would be drawing more of them towards this end of the town, then with some intricate work with his fingers managed to insert the screwdriver into the gap between the trigger and the housing. The gun faltered as he removed his hand – he pushed the screwdriver in further and the firing continued. He watched the belt of bullets as it fed through the gun – he reckoned he had maybe another minute or so until the bullets ran out, unless of course if it jammed. He gave the barrel a slight nudge and it swung, hit the stick in the ground and bounced back, the constant firing generating enough momentum that the gun bounced back off the second stick – firing in a wide arc that was decimated the hordes approaching it with no survival instinct whatsoever.

He turned back to the car, dispatching the small number of geeks that had come from his rear with contemptuous ease, and then reversed back down the street until he could take a side street to take him to the garage. He pressed the automatic door opener as he approached and after a slight pause, in which he held his breath, his field electronics made the connection and the door lifted. He reversed the Ford in and hit the button again. The door made it three quarters of the way down before the car battery ran out of juice and he moved quickly to slam it down the rest of the way, turning the lock to ensure that nothing could get through.

He worked through the majority of the day, the early years spent in chop shops proving invaluable as he stripped off the damaged panels and beat them out – he wouldn't be winning any awards, but they were serviceable. He inspected the engine block carefully and plugged the hole in the radiator, he filled up the oil and the water, then went searching until he found some coolant and filled that up as well. He inspected the tyres and although it probably wasn't strictly necessary, he topped them up a little. He then went for a systematic search through the racks of tyres, spare parts and maintenance fluids that were held by the garage and filled up the empty places in the truck.

He considered throwing out the items that he wouldn't need – nappies, _woman shit_, chocolate. But he decided against it – the theory of trade was sound enough and it wasn't like he didn't have the room. He topped up the supply of fuel in the drum and the tank of the car.

He was done.

The noise that he had generated during the day had drawn the geeks gradually. He wasn't sure how many there were, although it did sound like there was a few. He looked at the fading light through the windows – _leave now and try and find somewhere safe to sleep OR stay here and start fresh in the morning. _He wanted to go, right then and there, just to get away from the place. _But that wouldn't be smart_ he decided. He had a secure place for the night, he could be up at dawn after the absence of noise and movement had lulled them to the sort of suspended animation thing they had happening.

He dug around in the containers until he managed to put some semblance of a meal together and finished it off with a beer _fuck tha deal_ and a chocolate bar. He walked around the garage, which comprised the workshop he had the Ford in, an office and a showroom to check that all was still secure. He walked up the stairs to where the residence was and looked for a moment at the large double bed, but turned and walked away _tha bunk'll do him_. He tried the water, but there were no solar panels on this roof and he got a trickle of cold, slightly dirty water. He used his own supply to give himself a quick wash over and then returned to the car, sitting down on the bunk in the office with a sigh.

_Wha' a fuckin' day._

He closed his eyes firmly, lying almost defiantly on his left side, and willed himself to sleep.

He dreamed.

She finished attaching her bags to the gelding's saddle, testing the strength of the knot that she had tied. She didn't want the thing to come undone if she had to move along quickly. The crossbow and its quiver were over her shoulder and the sword was buried in a shotgun holder that she had found during a thorough cleanup of the tack shed. Dog sat perched on the end of the saddle, looking for all the world like he belonged there. She turned around and smiled at Jo. "Ready." She nodded, "I'll leave him at the Thompson farm for you to get later."

But Jo was looking uncertain and her grip on the gelding's reins was tight. "I don't know Marion. Elijah – he'll be upset."

Marion felt her stomach sink, but her voice was rallying. "It's for the best Jo."

"But Elijah wants you – he wants your baby." She firmed under Marion's eyes. "I can wait. I'll talk to Samson – he'll help me."

_So close_ she screamed inwardly. He was gone, she knew that. The kiss this morning had pretty much told her that and it had broken her heart, knowing how she had kicked him in the guts and then wiped her feet over him this morning with David in the barn. _It was the only way_ said one voice. _Maybe_, acknowledged the other _but he won't be waiting for her. If she was delayed, he would be gone and then she would be alone – again. _

"Merle will not look at you while I am in the camp," said Marion coldly and Jo took half a pace backwards in shock – but her hand kept its grip on the reins. "He wants me Jo, really _wants_ me. You think he'll listen to _Elijah_?" she laughed harshly. "Do you want him Jo? Do you want Merle?"

She did, Marion could see it in her eyes. But she had been trained since she was a young girl – Elijah knew best. _Fuck!_ She screamed inwardly. _She could knock her out_ she thought – Jo was a slight girl, it would probably take her a couple of goes, but she reckoned she could do it. But that would not only leave Jo vulnerable to attack by geek, it would leave her without an alibi for the rest of the day – and she needed that to make sure she got away. _She needed something – something that would appeal to the 16 year old girl, something that was more precious to her than Elijah, something she couldn't get anywhere else._

She locked eyes with Jo and pulled off her rings – it took some effort as they hadn't moved for a while. "Then you have to let me go." Carefully she reached over to the fence post and laid them down, their golden colour glinting in the sun. Jo's eyes followed them and her hand released the reins.

She rode hard, ducking overhanging branches as she cantered along, slowing Toby down for stretches to let him catch his breath before kicking him again into a canter. The sun was starting to lower itself out of the sky as she came to the farm that Jo had described and she turned her now tired horse towards it. She caught a flash of movement out of her eye and Dog growled, but the geek was pawing ineffectually at the glass from the inside of the house so she ignored it and kept riding. Toby pranced only a little when she released the one bolt at another geek, but stopped dead and would not be budged when they came to the decomposing body of a horse. She dismounted and with a bodily shove, pushed him off balance and led him in a wide arc around the grisly remains. She took the time to take the saddle off and give him a quick rubdown before throwing a bale of hay on the ground for him, leaving him in a paddock with access to a stall but lots of room to run around. She hoped that Jo would send someone for him the next day before too many geeks knew he was there.

"Come on Dog," she said, hoisting her bag over both shoulders, the crossbow over one arm and perched awkwardly against the bag and carrying the sword. She started to jog. "Let's go."

Merle sat up suddenly, "Marion." _Fuckin' dream_ he cursed even as he heard the mocking laughter. _She ain't coming – yar on ya own Merle._

"I'm gonna find you ya pussy," he snarled. "And I'm gonna kick ya ass 'till ya can't sit down for a mont'." _Ooh – come on then big brother._

_Must be a hallucination_ he decided, Daryl would never speak to him like that.

The geeks were making more noise that he thought they would be and he wondered about his decision to stay the night. He reached into his supplies again and absently chewed a cold poptart around making some morning ablutions. _At least he hadn't woken up with a hard on_ he thought about the bright side. The howling of the geeks intensified and he frowned as he walked back down the stairs _they must be able to hear him moving about_. Then he shrugged _he'd be out of here in no time_ and squatted next to the jury rigged wiring at the door. He had found another battery in his search through the workshop the day before. There wasn't much charge in it, but it had enough (based on what he had got from the other battery) to open the door the once. He didn't care what happened after that.

He heard the glass shatter upstairs and his brows raised, he hadn't thought of the geeks climbing rooves to get in – they hadn't seemed that cunning to him. _Time to go_ he thought and opened the car door.

Dog ran past his legs and jumped up, hopping over the centre console to the passenger seat, curling up into a ball and looking at him with wide brown eyes. He met Merle's eyes: his ears flattened and his head dropped, he put his tail between his legs.

Merle stared for perhaps three seconds, blinking _it had been a while since he'd had a drink – but..._ He turned suddenly at a noise behind him. She stood there, breathing hard, her sword covered in a dark red and splatters all over her clothes– she'd fought her way here. She looked up at him, her eyes uncertain. "Merle," she said softly.

_Fuckin' calculated intelligence _he thought in satisfaction and there was no comeback. "'bout fuckin' time woman. I ain't got all day."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

"Ya fuckin' did wha'?" he demanded, turning to glare at her.

The ride out of town had been harrowing, the door had been barely half way open when the geeks had started pushing in – the truck was rocking as they had surrounded it even before Merle had seen enough daylight to be able to hit the accelerator. The truck bucked and rocked as it pushed through the crowd immediately in front of the door but then ran into the gitch that had followed Marion through the town. The truck jumped as some of the geeks hit the ground – with a lurch it came to a halt. The geeks howled, pawing at the windows, reaching over the bonnet towards the windscreen.

"Merle?" Marion's voice was stressed as one of the aggressive of the geeks started thumping on her window, she was leaning away it as far as her seatbelt would let her– Dog had already jumped down into the footwell.

"'ang on," he muttered, reaching over and slamming the truck into 4WD and then into reverse.

For a moment the car struggled against the press of the bodies behind them, then the back wheels got traction and it jumped backwards – Merle spun the wheel and Marion lurched into the door. He hit the accelerator and the tyres squealed. He had to dodge a few stragglers but after about ten minutes they seemed to be clear and there was a tangible release of tension.

He looked at her, turning his head from the road, then back to the road, then back to her. She looked exhausted; she was filthy – covered with dirt and splashes of blood. There were even bits of leaf in her hair. "Ya could 'ave told me ya 'ad a way out," he said finally in a disgruntled tone.

"I didn't _have_ a way out," she replied tiredly. "I was working on one."

"And sticking ya tongue down young David's throat was part of it was it?" he snapped.

She winced a little. "That was actually a variation to get _you_ out of there." There had been no tongue involved of course, David had been a perfect gentleman about it. In fact, almost too much of a gentlemen – when Merle had taken that step forward she had felt him falter, she'd had to drag him back to her.

"What?" he said very clearly, glancing at her.

"Well you started to lose it a little," she shrugged. "I needed you out of the way – otherwise I would have never gotten out of there."

"Wha' tha fuck ya on about?" he frowned. "How'd ya git out?"

"By convincing Joanna that with me out of the way that she'd be clear to get at you," she said simply.

"Ya fuckin' did wha'?" he demanded, turning to glare at her.

"You see _why_ I didn't tell you?" she retorted indignantly.

He turned back to the road, blinking. "Horseshit," he grumbled. "I coulda played along – helped convince her."

She laughed out loud at that. "Oh please," she scoffed. "Jo loved the whole alpha male routine (1) you have going on from a distance – but she wouldn't have been able to cope with it in reality, she would have run straight to the hills – well to Ben anyway."

"David," he corrected absently. "You didn't run."

"Really?" she turned to him wide eyed to the first part of his answer. "I'm not a 16year old girl Merle."

He gave her a glance, scoffing back at her in turn. "Plain as tha fuckin' nose on ya face woman. David is smitten wit' tha wench." He looked at her again. "Tha ot'er women were frightened of me."

She sighed, a smile playing about her lips. "Good then." She realised that he might be confused with her answer with the sort of dual conversation they were having. "That David and Jo can now get together I mean." She didn't comment to the other part of his answer – she wasn't sure why she wasn't scared of him. She had certainly been that first day – the sight of him eating up her body with his eyes through the window, him with roughness worn like a cloak, one hand, shaved head – she'd been terrified. But then he'd saved her, for no reason that she knew of, he'd kept her from the other men. And then, even after she'd screamed those hateful things at him, he'd saved her again. Maybe he hadn't come back for her, although he'd done without the mysterious backpack for a while so maybe she'd been too harsh on him, but he'd put his life at risk to rescue her. And he'd continued to do so since then, for no real reason except his own, slightly warped perhaps, sense of honour. She knew, no matter what, that she was safe with him.

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why she wasn't frightened of him, but the words jammed up in his mouth. "Who else was in on ya plan?" he asked instead.

"My plan?" she shook her head. "No-one, I didn't know who I could trust."

"That's why ya didn't tell me?" he interrupted angrily.

"Of course not," her indignation was back. "I _was_ going to tell you that Thanksgiving night – after I'd sussed out my chances. But you'd already started playing your games – if you'd gone all meek and compliant after that there would have been some pretty strong warning bells ringing in Samson's head. So I worked on Jo, trying to get her to a point where I could get out of there..."

"So ya was goin' to leave me t'ere?" he snapped.

She gave him a look. "Since when did you have a problem getting out of there?" she snipped at him. "You got out the first bloody night didn't you? To move the car? And it wasn't like they were _watching _you was it? I figured that once I was gone, you'd just slip out."

He sniffed, unable to fault her reasoning. "And gettin' me out? David was in on it?"

She nodded. "He was worried about you Merle – he cared a lot for you. You scared the tripe out of him of course, but he told me that he learned a lot from you and he was very grateful. I went to Samson after the fight, made sure that he would get you out – David and Hannah were happy to help."

_So her grand plan was to make him think she hated him_ he sniffed. The only thing that would have made him leave. "Yar a fuckin' clever bitch."

"Why thankyou Mr Dixon," she said in her best (which was still pretty bad) breathy Marilyn Munroe impression, her pinkie finger held against her lower lip.

He snorted a laugh. "I'll 'ave ya know though t'at I was a virtual Casanova in my day."

"What?" she laughed. "Merle Dixon took a girl flowers?" He shook his head. "Chocolates?" He shook his head again. "Gave them massages?" Merle pursed his lips, _his definition of a massage possibly wasn't the same as hers_ and shook his head. "Took her for a walk along the riverbank at sunset?"

"Wha' type of pussies do t'at shit?" he demanded.

She smiled, but it was a tight one. _Her real husband ya dummy._ "But you were still a bit of a ladies man were you Merle?"

He covered his confusion with Dixon bravado. "Tha ladies couldn't git 'nough of ol' Merle," he boasted.

"I can imagine," she said drolly. _And she could_. Merle, even at his age which she put at mid to late forties, though slightly worn around the edges was a well built man. She imagined that with hair, even if it was a curly 'fro like he said, and a less used look he would have been a very good looking young man. With his outrageous personality, the right woman would have been attracted like a moth to a flame. _And probably got burnt too_. "I only ever had three boyfriends – two of them when in primary school, I even was 'married' to one of them in the playground," she was in her memories and didn't appreciate the irony of her comment, but it grated on Merle. "The next one wasn't until work experience in university. He served his purpose."

_Huh?_ thought Merle. _Ya dummy_ snorted Daryl's voice and he got it _oh_.

"Then a workmate set me up on a blind date with my husband and the rest, as they say, is history."

_Not quite_ he thought, looking down to where her fingers were playing with her rings automatically. Except..."Wha' 'appened ta ya rings?"

Marion looked down, almost in surprise and picked up her hand. There was a white mark around her finger and the skin was still indented from where they used to sit. She shrugged. "It was the price of admission – well departure I suppose," she said dully and buried that hand in Dog's coat.

She was silent for a moment, then she seemed to recover herself and told him about the ride through the forest, Thompson's farm – she was still worried that Toby might not be recovered before the geeks found him – and then the final run into town, sleeping in a tree when the night got too dark for her to be able to see her way. He in turn told her of Samson driving him to the car, using the 50cal to distract and decimate the geeks (she was very impressed with that) and the work that he had to do to make it driveable.

"Malcolm hey?" she repeated with a smile. "I always wondered why he was out of order. It was Samson and Delilah wasn't it?"

Merle nodded. "Samson was the strong man. He was seduced by Delilah and gave away the secret of his great strength – she betrayed him and he was imprisoned. He found God later on and was given his strength back to destroy his enemy's temple."

She blinked at him, perhaps wondering where he would have learnt that given his attitude towards the church.

She slept after that, her head leant up against where her seatbelt was connected to the chassis, the exhaustion of her journey, and perhaps the fear of arriving too late finally catching up to her. A stone dropped in the pit of his belly – what if he hadn't been there when she'd arrived? What if he'd left the night before? What if the work hadn't taken him as long as he thought it had? Would she have gone back to Babylon? Would she have tried to follow him to Fort Benning? On foot – with only a crossbow and sword. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

He looked at her _it had all been an act. _ He didn't know what that meant exactly, but he knew that he felt better knowing that it had been. He looked at her fingers, the white indented place where her rings had been. She'd moved _his_ ring that first morning – he hadn't been worried – and she wore it on her other ring finger. His own he hadn't bothered moving: his knuckle had swelled as soon as the ring had been put there, he'd have to try pretty hard to get it off, probably would have to use his teeth. _And then where were ya going to put it uno-hand?_ asked a caustic voice. He shrugged _it wasn't like they were actually married. _ She looked peaceful, the lines in her face eased while she slept, her fingers relaxed in Dog's coat. The blood on her was drying, he knew that she'd want to have a wash before she got changed and that was why he slowed finally. Dog stirred at the change in the car's motion and that caused Marion to wake, she looked at him sleepily. He jerked his chin towards her side of the car and she turned, her brows rising with what she saw and she opened the car door.

Dog jumped out first, running across the road and through the fence, Marion and Merle following more slowly and leaning against the fence. It was a creek, trickling clearly over the rocks, feeding into a small pond, which then discharged back out into the creek. On the other side they could see where the road curved around, there was some type of track leading down to the water.

"May as well camp tha night 'ere," offered Merle in the silence that was only broken by the occasional bird call and the splashing from where Dog bouncing in the shallows.

"Are we far enough away?" she wondered.

Merle snorted. "T'ey ain't coming for ya woman," she frowned and turned towards him. "Samson's knows ya done 'im, t'at ya wit' me. He might 'ave gone as far as tha town, but once he sees we're not t'ere, he'll know."

She smiled in acceptance of his reasoning and nodded. "Dog," she called, giving a short whistle – there was a flurry of bushes and he bounced out of the shrubbery, his tail wagging and drenched from the belly down. "Oh Dog," she groaned as Merle chuckled.

Dog ran straight past them, headed to the car, and then propped – growling with his hackles up. Automatically Merle stepped in front of Marion, lengthening his stride to take him next to the dog, reaching into his belt for the silenced gun.

The geek had apparently caught hold of the back of the truck in the town – at some point it had not been able to run any further and had just hung on – the feet would have gone first, then the legs, the knees and then finally up to the hips. After that the angle it floated out from the car while it drove must have been enough to protect the rest of its body – there was no trail of gore immediately visible so it must have been a while.

Marion made a gagging sound behind him and turned away, her hand pressed tight to her mouth.

The geek moaned, not in pain but in hunger –ravenously insatiable for human flesh and it turned its head, its jaw snapping, its eyes wide and white. It released its grip on the car and with a soggy plop, hit the tarmac. One arm reached out and, shudderingly, it moved towards them – the other hand reached out and grabbed more of the tarmac. It moved about half a metre before its grip failed. It reached the next hand out.

Merle shrugged and turned away. "Come on," he said.

"We can't leave it like that," she protested, looking back at it with pity in her eyes.

"Why not?" he shrugged. "It ain't goin' ta git anywhere at tha pace it's goin'. It ain't hurtin' anything – waste of a bullet."

"It used to be someone's daughter Merle," she argued. "You wouldn't leave an animal lying like that."

"It ain't an animal," he replied but he knew he was talking to himself. She had already turned to the car, reaching in the get her sword. He turned to look at the geek again – it did look like it had used to be a teenage girl. _Fuck_. "Git in tha car," he ordered, reaching out and taking the sword out of her hands.

The relief in her face was answer enough. He waited until she was in the car, a soggy Dog perched on her lap, then stepped forward.

Marion heard the moans, the almost wails intensify from the geek as it saw food approaching within its reach, then there was a twang as the metal of the sword impacted against the tarmac and there was no more noise from the geek. She sniffed a couple of times, blinking hurriedly and was able to turn an almost normal face to him as he came to his door, passing her the cleaned sword hilt first before sitting behind the wheel of the car and starting it up.

She didn't look in the side mirror at the half a heap lying in the middle of the road.

The trail from the road snaked through the trees and then turned to follow the creek for a bit; they ended up a couple of kilometres from where they had originally sighted it. Merle pulled the truck to a halt but left the engine running, watching the couple of cars and tents suspiciously to see if there was any movement. He shot out his stump as he heard Marion's door open, but she had merely let Dog out, watching him as he started to sniff around.

"We're clear I think," she said finally, turning to him.

"I'll move tha car, just in case," he said and she nodded, getting out with the sword and closing the door. Merle reversed the car in a 3 point turn, backing it up close to where the fireplace sat.

Marion backed out of one of the tents and shrugged. "Empty," she reported. "Nothing – no sign of anything."

"Prob'bly wandered off by now," Merle shrugged. "I'll go do a scout around – ya goin' ta 'av a wash?" She nodded vigorously. "Take tha bow," he instructed and rolled his eyes when she gave him a look. He grabbed the rifle, checked how many bullets he had in the silenced gun and swore. He opened the car door and rummaged through the weapons bag, finding the bullets for the gun and reloading it so it was full. He threw the box back into the bag and went to turn away – then something caught his eye.

His backpack.

He hadn't even thought of it the night before, he wasn't sure why. If ever he'd needed a hit it should have been last night. But now the hunger, the desire, the want hit him harder than ever. He looked up, he could see her walking away – she'd be at her bath for a while, the day was still warm enough although in a couple of hours the sun would dip behind one of the mountains and it would turn cold very quickly. He hesitated: he needed to walk the perimeter, make sure they were safe, well as safe as they could be, he needed to start the fire – something he insisted on doing even though she was as capable – and maybe even have a look at one of those tents to see if they might use it tonight.

A night alone with her in a tent. Just him and her. He and _his wife_.

_A little bit won't hurt_ he thought: he'd need something to take the edge off, and reached for the backpack.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

He was still buzzing just a little when he came to the clearing, having walked for almost an hour across the creek and along the other side of the valley, checking for signs of game or geeks. He'd found none, which was good and bad. The colder nights had sent the game packing, the squirrels had finished the last of their gathering and were hunkering down for the winter, the hares had gone into their burrows, the deer – well they'd gone to wherever they went. They certainly weren't here. Neither were there geeks either that he could see, but he had to yet walk on the other side of the creek.

The little clearing came out of nothing, and ended abruptly: he walked to the edge to overlook the view – and froze.

She'd tracked the creek longer than he thought, finding a deep pool which had been dug out by eons of falling water so that she could entirely submerse herself. That must not have been enough for her though because she had swum over to where the trickle of a waterfall cascaded over the rocks and was standing up underneath it, apparently washing her hair. Her eyes were closed as she tipped her head back to catch the water, she had absolutely no idea that he'd just walked in on her.

_Walk away._

Of course he should – he knew that – for his own sanity as much as for her. But he couldn't – he was rooted to the spot. Her hands up to the back of her head did magic things to her bust, lifting them up and out and he felt himself harden right then. His gaze traced down past her breasts, down her ribs– which at least had managed to put on a little weight in the sheltered existence of the farm –over her flat stomach and to where the hair accumulated above her legs.

He groaned to himself and dragged his eyes away, back up, even as Dog stood up and barked.

"Merle Dixon!" she all but screeched, and turned – presenting him with what was only a close second in scenery. "Get out of here!"

He smirked, placing the rifle on his shoulder and leaning in a little. "Ya ain't got not'in' ta be ashamed of woman," he assured her. "I seen lots o' tits and pussies and yours..." he brought his fingers to his lips and kissed them.

"Perhaps somewhat surprisingly Mr Dixon," she said witheringly over her shoulder. "Your appreciation of my attributes means shit all! Now turn the _fuck_ around."

"Okay, okay _Mrs _Dixon," he quipped back at her, smirking back at her glare as Dog continued to bark. He started to turn away when a flash of something caught his eye and he turned back quickly.

"Merle!" she shouted in exasperation.

"Git outta t'ere woman," he snapped, bringing the rifle up against his shoulder.

She turned then, seeing the geek stagger out of the trees, snarling and growling. Dog barked as he moved forward and the geek turned, but Dog was halfway around the pond and Marion was closer, so it turned back to her. It splashed in the shallows, the water moving up over its feet, up its legs and then it vanished with a splash, obviously finding the edge of the pool.

Merle lowered the rifle back down and she turned her head, not her body, back to him. "They can't swim," she told him with some relief and lowered herself back into the water, casting a glance at where the geek went in the water.

From his vantage point he saw it before she did and he instinctively flicked the rifle back up into place. "T'ey don't drown eit'er," he snapped, but he lowered the rifle again without taking a shot. The head of the geek was below the water and he wasn't sure that the bullet would stay true through the water and if it didn't, then he would have rung the dinner bell for any others that were around.

Marion was swimming to the edge, where Dog was waiting next to her clothes and cross bow. He turned and growled and Marion propped in the water, swirling her arms to keep afloat as another geek, then a third stepped out of the trees. Dog barked, dodging as one of them reached out towards him.

"Git back t'is way," yelled Merle even as she called to Dog to get away, shouldering the rifle and stepping over the edge, balancing with his stump as he climbed down the rocks. The rocks finished in a ledge, about a metre off the water and he stalked along its edge as she stroked over towards him. He squatted down and reached over with his hand – she paused, treading water in front of him and giving him a tantalising if somewhat hazy view. "Come on," he urged her, reaching his hand down a bit further. She grabbed his hand with both hers and he stood up: with a surge of water she came flying up, her body landing against his chest and her feet on the ground. He wrapped his arm around her back, his hand just feathering across the top of her bottom.

"Now what?" she asked, turning her head to watch the third geek disappear into the deep water.

He looked down at her, her hands were hard against his chest but he had a nice view down the front of her chest. He smirked.

"Merle," she said warningly.

"Marion," he replied, pulling her a bit closer and tightening his grip on her bottom. He looked down at her face, her lips parted a little with nervousness and he felt a surge of desire.

"Merle," she said again, but this time in a different voice and he turned to follow her eyes. He released her and turned: there wasn't enough room to wrangle with it on the ledge or the cliff so he brought the rifle up and fired in one smooth motion. The geek folded to the ground at the top of the cliff, but then another one came into view.

"Time ta move again," he said as he let off another shot, but he could hear more groans – there were more coming.

"Back through the water?" she queried, looking doubtfully at the other options around the rockwall and covering her chest with her arms.

"Yep – go wide," he nodded, putting his head through the strap of the rifle so that it sat across his back. He turned in time to see her dive into the water smoothly and he paused momentarily in appreciation before following somewhat less smoothly. Dog barked from the edge of the water as they came towards him – Merle hit bottom before she did and he surged up past her, grabbing her around the waist as she stumbled on the rocks. He unslung the rifle and let go another shot _quality workmanship_ he thought as the geek dropped with a bullet through its brain. There was a whoosh as she released a bolt and he turned, swallowing as she bent over to draw in another bolt before straightening with the crossbow to her shoulder. _Fuck he couldn't concentrate with that_. "Here," he called, shrugging off his vest and throwing it at her "put some fuckin' clothes on woman."

She lowered the bow to do that – throwing it around her and tying up the string hurriedly before she picked up her bow again, letting the second bolt go.

The water in front of them bubbled and surged and a geek resurfaced, growling as it came up into the air. Merle waited until it made it to the edge before stepping forward and slamming the blade through its eyeball. It crumpled into a heap as the second one surfaced. He heard a whoosh and spared only a glance for the fallen body a couple of metres behind him, stepping forward to dispatch the third geek as it came out of the water. He turned, looking around – she stood still but with the bow still braced, his vest down to her knees and the armholes showing him far more of her chest than it was designed for.

"We clear?" she said cautiously, lowering the bow and looking around, taking in Dog who was now sitting down and scratching himself.

He looked around – there were no more geeks on the cliff and he wondered whether they had turned around or whether they had followed them into the water. He couldn't see anything moving. He looked at the dead bodies around him, there was a 'dad', a 'mom', a 'grandma' and a 'grandpa' and what could have been a couple of younger people. _So this is where they'd got to _he thought. "Should be," he nodded. "There could be more out there though."

"But where would we go?" she asked, "It's almost dark."

The shadows had begun creeping up the side of the valley. "Git dressed," he told her absently. "I got an idea."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) as identified by RandomGuest some time ago


	45. Chapter 45

Housekeeping note – I haven't really specified Marion's age although I did play with it during the film and TV references during one of the Babylon chapters. I did say that Merle was older than her – I would put her in late 30s (about the same age as Daryl which will be of interest later on). Merle I have at mid forties.

A word of warning for the sensitive souls out there – you may consider this chapter slightly disturbing. There are buzz words and actions in here that will push the M rating envelope. If you want to skip to the first text break you'll miss it all and easily be able to figure out what happened.

Chapter 45

"Heya sugartits," he called as he stepped around the tree.

She turned from where she was making the fire, her eyes wide _in appreciation of his attributes _he thought, knowing that there would be no other voice answering when he was buzzing, _when he was flying_ like this. Then she turned away.

"T'ere's no need to be shy," he crowed, pushing his hips forward and flashing his arms out. "T'is is all yours now woman – we're married remember!" _At least that bible bashing prick did one thing right, he'd made her his – in all ways except one._

"The marriage isn't real Merle," she replied, still not looking at him.

"I know – ya'll want tha whole church and priest t'ing to make it 'fficial," he nodded, walking forward.

"What are you doing Merle?" she asked, standing to face him and keeping her eyes prudishly on his face.

He reached out and snatched her close to him, trapping her arms against her body as his own wrapped around her, feeling her soft curves mould to his length, letting his fingers play with her ass as it filled his hand. "Ya know t'at David dinna know wha' tha fuck to do wit' a woman in his arms. Imma goin' ta show ya wha' a _real_ man does wit' a woman," he breathed, looking down at her lips.

He saw them move, but the buzzing was loud in his brain and he shook his head slightly. "... _want_ you to do that Merle," he heard.

"You ain't goin' to be disappointed," he promised and dipped his head.

His kiss was hard, demanding and he had caught her in the midst of saying something so took full advantage of her mouth being open to thrust his tongue in, wrapping around her tongue and possessing himself fully of _his wife_. He felt a pain lance through from his ankle and he kicked out _fuckin' jealous mutt_.

Her teeth closed over his tongue and he pulled his head back quickly. He smirked at her, "Ya like it rough do ya honeypouch?" He moved his left hand up into her hair, grasping it firmly and reefed it backwards. She squeaked a little at his masterfulness, then his mouth was over hers again, plundering. He felt her struggle to release her arms, _she wanted to touch him_ and damn if he didn't want that too, but he was wired and knew that one sweet touch with her fingers would be enough to send him over the edge. "Slow down sweetcheeks," he breathed, moving his mouth from hers around to her ear where he nibbled gently. "Ya just let ol' Merle show ya how it's done."

"Merle – no," she all but moaned in his ear.

_Fuck woman's lib. _"Woman – yes," he groaned back, moving his mouth from her ear down her throat, pulling on her hair to give him better access. Again the dog came at his ankle and this time he stomped: there was a yelp.

"Dog," she said firmly, her hand gesturing strictly and he smirked. "Merle – please..." he shook his head again as the buzzing grew louder, but he heard that and with her plea his body grew even harder.

"I got ya sugar," he promised and let go of her hair to place his right hand underneath her ass and lifted her up off the ground. He dropped to his knees, her legs either side of him and lowered her to the ground carefully, following with his bulk almost immediately and finding her mouth with his again. _Fuck but she tasted sweet._

She was growing desperate now, he could feel. She was writhing, grabbing at him with her hands, trying to get her hips in place for him but _fuck if she wasn't going to knee him in the balls if she wasn't careful_. He collapsed his lower body on top of hers, pressing his erection right up in the junction of her legs so that she could feel what she did to him, and that effectively stopped all of her movement.

"Merle," she was almost sobbing now "please."

"I'm gettin' t'ere sugar," he assured her. "Don't be in too much of a rush." He reached down with his right hand, but fumbled with the buttons of her shirt _fuck it_ he thought and with his left hand pulled the cloth sharply. There was a rending tear and he stared at the bounty that was before him. Her chest was heaving in front of him and he lowered his mouth to the top of the curve, planting kisses along the hem of the lace and then moving down over the smooth fabric that covered its treasure, biting firmly. He heard her gasp out _in pleasure_ and moved his mouth over the nub, tracing it gently with his teeth while sucking it into a point, even as her hands came up to his head and grabbed at it. He obeyed their call and came back to her mouth, satisfying her need for his kiss even as his left hand tracked up between their bodies and filled with the soft curve of her breast, stroking, kneading, squeezing in ways that were making her cry out against his mouth. He transferred his weight over to the other side and lifted up his right hand to worship the other breast the same way, but she was too eager, her hands were all over his chest.

"Merle please," she cried out.

"'old on sugar," he grunted, transferring his weight back to his right hand and catching her own in his left, trapping them up above her head. Instantly he was distracted by the way her bust moved with that movement, especially as she wiggled around, driving him crazy as her pussy wiped up against his erection. He groaned, bracing himself up on his left hand and pushing his right hand down between them, fumbling with the button and zipper of her jeans. "Fuck,"he growled as it eluded his efforts. He moved his right hand up and grasped her wrists, moving his left down between them. She arched up into him and he lowered his mouth to one of the buds that danced right in front of him even as his fingers found and dislodged the button, sliding his hand against her skin until he could reach...

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Marion heaved the now unconscious Merle off her with a grunt and sat up, the stout tree branch still in her hand. She glanced at Dog, creeping back somewhat cautiously from where Merle had booted him. "What the fuck was that?" she gasped. She looked over to Merle, absolutely still and with a slight frown she leant over to him. Dog growled and she paused, but Merle wasn't moving and she carefully laid her hand over his heart. It was a steady, if slightly faster than normal, beat and she heaved a sigh of relief. She hadn't wanted to hurt him, _well towards the end there she'd been getting close, _and she was worried that the thump she had given to his head might have done more than knock him out cold. She leant over further, ignoring Dog's continued growl and poked around the back of his head. There was a slight lump, but no blood and with his heavy breathing and steady heart beat she sat back, comfortable that he wasn't seriously injured.

_That didn't answer her question_ she realised. The afternoon had followed its normal course after the incident at the creek, well after they had dragged the dead dead bodies of the geeks in a circle around their camp. It had been Merle's idea to use their smell as a deterrent for any others out there, and once they decided on a distance that would hopefully still offer some protection while not overwhelming them with the stench the work had been done quickly. She had changed into her own clothes again, returning him his vest and while his eyes still retained a certain something, he'd been well in control.

She had thought he was playing some joke on her when he had stepped out from the tree wearing not an absolute thing, a sick joke yes, but still a joke. He'd alluded to their marriage, which she knew he believed in not a bit more than she did and only used it to stir her up, but then he'd grabbed her and all of a sudden it hadn't been funny at all. Dog had attacked him of course, his ankle was still bleeding she noted absently, but he'd kicked Dog off and slowed down not a whit. Nothing she said or did seemed to have an impact on him, it was almost as if he wasn't hearing her, or not everything she said anyway. She'd stopped Dog from attacking not because she was worried about Merle, but because she was worried about Dog. She'd hit at Merle, she'd yelled at him, she'd even scratched him – nothing made a difference. He was far too strong for her, even with one hand he had been able to pin her down on the ground and take basically what he wanted from her. She had been starting to get desperate when he'd had to release her hands, although it had almost been as if he'd forgotten he only had one hand, to get inside her pants – by stretching as far as she could behind her she'd managed to get ahold of the branch. She'd cracked it over his head just as he'd almost reached his goal – well his preliminary goal anyway. She had no doubt that he had fully intended to rape her.

She shuddered, _that hadn't been the Merle she knew._

She cast her gaze over him again, noting analytically that his erection had finally died down – there was nothing on him that would suggest that he'd been bitten or stung by anything to make him do that sort of thing – and she was pretty sure that there was nothing natural that made someone do what he had been doing. He had sort of acted drunk, but she hadn't tasted any alcohol on him – and she was pretty sure that she had tasted everything he had eaten or drunk in the last 24hours. _There had been something though_ she tried to remember the taste of him, how he had tasted different from the last time he had kissed her_. _

He looked calm still so she stood, pulling up the zipper and doing up the button on her jeans, folding the torn remains of her shirt around her as Dog jumped to his feet to follow her. She walked around the tree that he had come from. He had disappeared for a good twenty minutes before she had started to light the fire, she had just figured that he was going to relieve himself or something. _But what had he been doing?_

The backpack sat on the ground near the tree, with his pile of clothes and she hesitated. This was his backpack, his very precious backpack which he always took care to unload and load himself, which he had asked her to hide from the others, which he had come back for when he had left her. She took another glance over at him, still lying prone and naked in the lengthening shadows – the spark of the fire that she had been coaxing to life long subsided to a smouldering mess. _What he didn't know..._

She bent down, tucking the shirt into her jeans waistband and unzipped the backpack. She frowned, reaching in and extracting a leather strap, a hypodermic needle, some spoons, and several packs of white powder. "You stupid son of a bitch," she swore and upended the bag, seeing more pills and other powder drop out. "You fucking arsehole!" _So that explained a bit _she thought. She sat back on her heels, thinking for a minute. She glanced over at him _first thing first._

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle came to slowly, he blinked a couple of times, the blurriness of his gaze slowly sharpening. He admired the view in front of him. "Well _hello_ sugartits."

She straightened suddenly, turning to him and walked over to him. He smirked up at her as she bent down and then 'thwack' – his head spun around with the force of the blow that she slammed into his face. _Fuck the bitch had punched him!_

The cotton wool in his head vanished in an instant. "Marion?" he muttered, shaking his head, wincing at the pain in it. He felt a sharpness behind his back, the cold on his buttocks and legs, the coarseness of the blanket that was draped over his waist and legs and the night air on his chest. He looked down – he was naked, sitting on the ground, leaning up against a tree. A frown settled on his face and he leaned forward – which was when he realised that he was _tied up_ to a tree. "Marion?" he repeated. "Wha' tha fuck is goin' on?"

She squatted down in front of him. "Is it you?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes at him and absently rubbing at her knuckles.

"Wha'?" he demanded and pulled against the ropes. "Wha' tha fuck do ya mean? Of course it's me. Why am I tied up? Where's me clothes?"

She tipped her head at him. "You don't remember." She said it flatly, not asking as much as saying.

"Remember what?" he all but shouted at her. "Why tha fuck am I tied up woman?"

"You tried to rape me."

He stared at her for five full seconds. Then "horseshit," he snorted. "I've never had a woman that wasn't willing. If they was too stupid to know what a good thing ol' Merle was, then that was their problem."

She glared at him for several seconds, and then she pulled off her shirt. _Wha' tha fuck? _He blinked, staring at her for a second and then, because she was showing no signs of covering up but was staring back at him coldly, he looked. Past the fact that she was sitting there half naked, past the black bra with just a hint of lace – to where he could see red, finger shaped marks around her breast. Finger marks his size.

_The apple doesn't fall far from the tree does it brother? _

A weight landed solidly in the pit of his stomach and he moved his eyes over her, searching. _Tried, she'd said 'tried'. _"Are you alright?" he asked half in panic.

She blinked, then she nodded. "I'm fine."

"Woman?" he growled.

"I'm ok Merle,' she insisted. "I hit you on the head before you got," she swallowed, "too far."

"Fuck," he dropped his head back against the tree he was tied to. He opened his eyes. "Ya know I wouldn't... I would never..."

"I thought I did," she nodded. "So why Merle?"

"Why what?" he repeated.

"Why would you have tried to rape me Merle?"

_Because I couldn't get the memory of you standing naked, one leg out to brace yourself, the crossbow surrounded by your breasts. So I snorted some drugs to take the edge off. And I took too much. _"Don't know," he shrugged belligerently.

"Nothing to do with drugs?" she queried haughtily.

His eyes flashed up to hers, seeing the anger simmering in them still. "Wha'?"

"The drugs," she repeated. "I don't know what they were – but whatever you took, I presume it was them that made you think it was a good idea to rape me."

He winced, he wished she'd stop saying that. "Don't know wha' ya talkin' 'bout woman."

"Well that's alright," she shrugged. "Because I threw it all out."

He straightened suddenly, pulling against the ropes. "Ya fuckin' did wha'? Ya stupid bitch! Why tha hell would ya do t'at?"

She looked down pointedly at her breast. "Because I didn't want to live in fear of _being raped_," she almost yelled back at him.

He subsided against the tree, banging his head against it a couple of times before the pain in his head intensified to almost unbearable. He looked up at her. "Undo tha ropes woman."

"Why?" she demanded.

"Please," he said. "Ya safe – ya know that."

She glared at him for a few seconds. Then she stood, pulling on her shirt as she walked away from him – _fuck she must be pissed_ "Come on woman," he called out to her and glared at Dog as he growled. "Marion," he called out again, breathing a sigh of relief as she walked back to him. But then she threw something down at his feet.

He stared at it.

It was an empty whiskey bottle.

_Oh Fuck._

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Oh I hope you enjoyed that!


	46. Chapter 46

Warning – you need to set your language to Merle mode. I apologise for what may very well be almost incomprehensible unless you say it out loud – I do think I went a bit hard on Merle's speech but I ain't changing now!

Chapter 46

She did let him go and waited until he got dressed. He had a stinking headache and once she made him tell her that she had winced a little guiltily and given him a cold compress to place against his head. She also put some antiseptic on his ankle, and found him something to eat, started the fire back up and then retreated back to one of the logs that sat around the campfire and sat down with an expectant air.

He sighed. "Whadya want ta know?"

"Tell me about the camp," she replied. "The one you were at before you met me – the one that Robbie and Terence came from."

He blinked, that wasn't the question that he'd been expecting.

"It was about half a day out of Atlanta that I ran into them," he started. "I was feverish and me van had run out of fuel. T'ere was about fifteen of 'em, t'ey came past me wit' all t'ese hot rodded cars – t'ey'd just cleaned out an old people's home and taken all t'eir drugs. Killed ev'ryone t'ere," he added dully. "Not that I knew t'at t'en. Tha last car – it stopped and out got Robbie. He looked at me, with that hoity toighty look – ya know the one, yep – tha's it," he snorted as she glared at him. "and he says 'Terence – I think this one might be _handy'_." His voice took on a bit of a snarl, but she didn't interrupt, watching him carefully with her hand buried in Dog's coat.

"T'ey took me back, patched me up – t'ey 'ad tha good meds from their raid. It was a couple o' days b'fore Terence came around, he gave me a gun and told me we was goin' 'unting. It wasn't game we was 'unting," he said coldly. He paused. "We brought back 'bout fifteen of 'em, teenagers, woman, some kids. None of tha men – t'ose t'at fought back were killed, t'ose t'at didn't, well t'ey was killed as well. I was 'aving ... _issues_ at tha time – I didn't care, fuck, maybe I wouldna even if I 'ad been right." He shrugged, he wasn't here to make apologies. "Tha woman were thrown into tha camp, given 'duties' which included cookin' and cleanin' and ... ot'er t'ings in exchange for food."

Marion winced but still she held silent.

"I did some odd jobs for 'em – got tha cars t'ey'd stolen workin' prop'ly, went out wit' some o' 'em and stole some more. I never went out gat'ering again – t'at's wha' t'ey called it – 'gat'ering'. See most o' tha camp was men, come from t'is oil company t'at 'ad evacuated t'em to Atlanta where t'eys meant ta meet their families. Atlanta was overrun by tha time t'ey got t'ere, so t'ey set up camp at t'is industrial estate. 'ad 'eaps o' food – but Robbie, he was a smart mot'erfucker. He didnna give anyt'ing away – ya 'ad to 'ave somet'ing ta trade for everyt'ing. I could fix tha cars, plus I could teach 'is men 'ow ta shoot, I never went 'ungry – had heaps of booze ta drink too. I reckon t'at's why Samantha came ta me."

He had her full attention now. Dog nudged her hand and she shook herself, stroking his fur.

"I gave 'er food and sent 'er on 'er way. Robbie dinna like t'at," he shook his head. "'e made 'er work double tha next day – for 'im. T'en 'e cam ta me – ta find out wha' was wrong wit' me t'at I _wouldn't take advantage of a sweet piece like Samantha_," he snorted. "'e t'ought perhaps I was queer – 'e tried it on me. Ya saw 'ow t'at turned out."

She swallowed as his eyes found her again. "So you think that the camp was better off without those men?"

"Hell yes," he nodded. "T'ere were ot'ers t'ere t'at dinna like 'ow it was set up. Men as used ta 'ave wives and kids and couldna deal wit' 'ow Robbie was using t'em. But none o' t'em 'ad that balls ta stand up ta 'im. Wit' 'im gone, wit' Terence gone – t'ey woulda 'ad a chance."

She nodded.

"Tell me about Daryl."

"Darylina?" he snorted. "'e's me kid brot'er – t'ere's not'ing ta tell."

She glared at him.

He sighed. "'e was an accident – 'ad ta be. T'ere was no way Mama ever wanted ta bring anot'er kid into tha hell t'at was our home. Pa was a mean son o' a bitch at tha best o' times – but when 'e was drunk, 'e used ta beat tha living shit out o' her or," he swallowed and looked in any direction but at her, "'e'd rape her." He paused. "Not t'at I knew t'is when I was a kid – I put it toget'er when I was older. I t'ought everyone's pa yelled at their mama, who smacked 'er a bit when she burnt tha dinner or dinna fold tha towels tha right way." He shrugged. "But Daryl was born and it was like she 'ad t'is shield 'round her. Not'ing he'd say or do would touch her because she had t'is little perfect baby," he said it without a trace of bitterness because she'd always managed to include him in her happiness. "I was about 8 I reckon when 'e was born. 'e was a smart kid, dinna take him long ta work out not to cry 'round Pa, walked too fuckin' early. Always 'ad t'is fascination wit' tha woods – we lost 'im one day, only time I reckon I saw Pa give a shit – he was only 2 and a 'alf. I found 'im – he'd walked out tha back, t'rough tha fence into tha trees. He was just sitting on tha ground, watching the leaves move 'round in tha wind. Pa beat up Momma pretty good tha night," he added reflectively.

"'e'd been at school a week when she disappeared. I don't know whether she left – I reckon she tried, she told me ta look after him and I did – I did me best anyway. I protected him as best as I could from Pa, I taught him ta be tough, 'ow ta be a man," he ended almost savagely.

She gave him a look and he sighed. "'e was too good for us – for Pa and me. 'e 'ad somet'in' special did Daryl – he had _her._ On the outside 'e was Dixon, 'ad _his_ eyes, same as me, not all t'at much ta look at – but inside, 'e was somet'in' special. 'e 'ad t'is art teacher, she loved him and tried real 'ard I reckon ta git 'im somewhere. She got him into music lessons – 'e learnt ta play tha guitar, 'e doesn't 'ave a bad voice eit'er. His first pay cheque he bought a guitar. I t'ink I smashed it a week later," he frowned with remembrance. "She taught 'im 'ow to draw – just with a lead or charcoal, he did t'is one of Mama – it was a bit vague, 'e'd done it from memory, but it was her. Pa went off 'is rocker when 'e found it – ripped it up, broke all Daryl's stuff and beat 'im around tha 'ead a bit."

"'e 'as t'is 'abit of chewing his fingers," he mused. "Started when he was a baby – he'd never 'ave one o' t'ose dummy t'ings – he'd just mung on t'ose fingers. Now it's a nervous 'abit – whenever 'e's stressed, 'e'll stick his t'umb in t'ere and almost tear into it – is a wonder t'at he 'as any fucking fingers left."

"Pa used ta lock 'im up in tha shed. Not for any reason – just got over 'aving 'im in tha house, grab 'im and drag 'im in t'ere. 'e's got a bit of claustrophobia from it."

"'e's got two t'ings of Mama's – her wedding ring which I found t'at day on tha kitchen dresser. I reckon I shoved it in tha back of a drawer to 'ide it from Pa – Daryl musta found it years later. He's also got 'er locket – a small tarnished silver t'ing with a pitcha me and 'im as kids in it. Don't know 'ow 'e kept t'at away from Pa, would 'ave bin wort' somet'in' in its day. 'e didn't know I knew 'e 'ad 'em – 'e 'id 'em from me."

"Never play poker wit' 'im – 'e's a fuckin' card shark," Merle grinned slightly in memory. "I 'member tha time he and I played strip poker wit' little May Turner and her best friend Jane White – lit'le prick never even lost a sock but tha t'ree of us ended up starkus." _Good times._

"I left when I was seventeen – got inta tha Marines. Did alright for a bit – then got sent to Quantico. Used ta send money 'ome for 'im when I could – don't know whet'er he got any of it or whet'er Pa drank it. When I got out I went 'ome 'cassionally, spend a couple o' weeks t'ere getting pissed wit' me mates, seeing ta tha women in tha local watering hole. 'e'd come in, sit in tha corner and watch with t'at fuckin' 'unter's glare t'at 'e has. I'd get 'im a woman every now and again and 'e'd take 'em– only reason I knew 'e wasn't queer. We'd git back into tha 'ouse as tha sun was comin' up – 'e'd 'ave a quick shower and 'ead off ta work. I'd only 'ang 'round a couple o' weeks – t'en I'd 'ead off somewhere. 'e stayed t'ere – right ta tha end – in tha fuckin' little shit piece o' a house. Buried Pa when tha drink finally killed 'im off, settled whatever debts 'e 'ad around."

"I 'adn't spoken ta 'im for a good ten years when tha apocalypse hit. Was tha fuckin' same as ever t'ough." He paused. "Maybe a bit more like me."

She waited for a while. "Why are you so sure that he's alive?"

Merle brought himself back to the present. "Daryl?" He snorted. "Only a Dixon can kill a Dixon sugartits. 'e's alive somewhere – prob'ly wit' tha same group somew'ere." She still wasn't satisfied. "Me brother can 'unt woman. I mean _hunt_. 'e used ta live in tha woods when he was a kid, 'e got lost one of tha times I was in juvie – 8 days or somet'ing when 'e was only 9. Got 'imself back home alright – Pa hadn't missed 'im. I 'ad ta be real careful when I rang ya see not ta make 'im t'ink I was after Daryl. Ya only got one phone call a week – it cost me a mont's wort' of desserts ta make t'at last phone call, didn't know what I was goin' ta do if 'e didn't answer tha phone t'at night" he ended with half a smile. "Daryl's a survivor. 'e ain't got no social skills, me and Pa fixed t'at in 'im, but he can look after 'imself and anyone else 'e chooses to."

"And you miss him?"

He grimaced. "'e's me brot'er. 'e's blood, 'e's kin." He looked up and found her eyes on him steadily. "Yes fuck it woman, I miss 'im alright. We went t'rough a lot of shit together – I abandoned 'im and left 'im wit' Pa all t'ose years ago and yet, when tha world went ta pieces, he still let me in, he came wit' me. 'e 'ad my back. And t'en I let 'im down – again."

"Your hand?" she prompted and he nodded first, then looked up sharply.

"It was no industrial accident Merle," she said with a slight smile. "What happened?"

It was as if in slow motion that he watched it fly, the key, as it sailed up and in a gentle arc from the nigga's hand right into the centre of the drainage pipe. _Nothing but net_. He screamed out at him then, yelling, pleading, but he was panicked now, yelling out himself. He looked back at him, Merle met his eyes, pleading for his life, not to be left there. But the door slammed shut and he was left there.

_Fuck_.

He pulled and pulled at the chain, at the pipe, at anything and everything. Nothing moved an inch. He was still buzzing, he hallucinated in the sun – going back to the time when he had reached his limit with the Corp. Then he had turned to God – he had pleaded, he had threatened and then he had spat on Him. The geeks arrived later that afternoon, drawn perhaps up the stairs by his noise, his need to hear someone talking to him, even it was himself. He was coming down from the buzz, cold horror settling in as the night came over. He was cold and he huddled up into a ball.

The night had been one of the longest of his life. The noises from the door had faded slightly with the night – they hadn't been able to see him, although every now and again a burst of breeze had sent his scent their way and the howls of hunger had started up again. Now that dawn had managed to creep over the top of the building they could see him again and their noise had started up again. He looked down at the hacksaw – it had taken him most of the previous day to snag it with his belt, cursing and swearing all the time – at Officer Friendly _whoever the fuck he was_, at the nigga for getting him into the situation to start with, at the chink for being a chink, at _tha pansy_ Daryl for not being there yet, at God for his life. He'd tried it against the handcuffs for hours, falling asleep from sheer exhaustion before snapping awake and sawing away again.

The geeks frothed at the mouth, pushing harder and harder at the door which banged ominously under their pressure. They were coming. It was only a matter of time. He looked at the hacksaw, at the cuffs which it hadn't been able to make a dent in. The roar of the geeks faded into the background behind his breathing and pumping of his blood. He grabbed his belt in his teeth and yanked it tight. He placed the blade on the skin and using all the force he could muster, he dragged the blade back.

The pain was excruciating and a yell burst from his throat. The howls from behind the door intensified, but he didn't look up. _Come on ya pussy – do it. Put ya purse down and _the next cut was even more painful and he yelled again, tears welling in his eyes. The next cut hit the bone and he screamed until he thought his lungs would burst. Another cut through the bone, a third and then he was past the bone and into flesh again. His arm was a mass of pain now, he couldn't hear anything but his ragged breathing and the rush of blood in his ears. The handcuff made a ting against the pipe and he fell forward as the blade broke through. There was blood all around him, and was still dripping from the stump of his arm. _Need to stop the bleeding_ he thought dully, looking at his hand on the floor in front of him. _Git up you dummy – ya don't want to die of blood loss_. He stood up, swaying slightly. He looked up at the stairs, the geeks pushing up against the door, and then looked around. There was another door over the edge of the building – but he would need a weapon. He looked on the ground where the tools had fallen and scattered and stepped over the pipe. The geeks howled as his bloody scent got closer to them and he sneered at them "Ya dumb ass geeks – ya ain't get any of ol' Merle today." He bent over and picked up the wrench, taking one last look at the door and stumbling away.

He weaved through the offices like a drunken man, holding his hand up against his chest. He spotted a rag and grabbed it, twisting it around his stump. He moaned with the pain and staggered, leaning against the wall for a moment. He heard the groans and straightened up, snarling as he saw a figure shambling towards him. He took three steps, slamming the wrench once, twice, three times into its head. Another groan sounded nearby and he whirled, hammering on its skull with the wrench even after it had hit the ground. He moaned, shuddering and the wrench dropped out of his hand. _Had to stop the bleeding._

The stove took an age to light – he had to press down the gas with his stump while pushing at the ignition with his free hand. It fired up with a whoosh and he looked around. He staggered over to the bench and picked up the metal iron press, and placed it over the flame. He counted to 100 to keep his mind awake, and then reached over for the iron. He took a deep breath "Come on ya pussy!" he yelled and pushed the iron against his stump.

He woke on the floor, his arm a mass of agony, but not bleeding anymore. The sun was well and truly up, he could see through the window and he sniffed hard, wiping his face against his sleeve. _Dixons don't cry ya pussy_ he snarled at himself, forcing himself to his feet. He took a few steps forward and peered out the grotty window – stairs. He turned his head away and elbowed the window sharply, then again, protecting his _only hand_ with a bunched up towel as he cleared a space big enough for him to crawl through. It was a tight fit, but he managed it and he paused _up or down_. It was an easy decision – he'd had enough of rooftops. So he made his way down, trying to keep as quiet as he could.

There were geeks in the streets, he could see them – he could hear them. The stairs brought him into some kind of service alley and he turned, even in the city his unerring sense of direction guided him and he knew the way back to camp – back where he had some discussions to carry out with a nigga, a chink, a bitch, a taco vender and _fuckin' Officer Friendly_.

It took him a couple of hours, weaving backwards and forwards through the alley, sometimes going into buildings, sometimes having to take geeks out – but he made it the railway yards. And he stopped _maybe there was a God_ he thought _or maybe the devil looks after its own_ suggested another voice. He shrugged "Whatever" it was still a vehicle. A stupid, box of a vehicle, but one that would get him back to camp quicker than walking. He walked to the door and looked in, ready to reach in to pop the hood and he breathed a whistle. The keys were in it. "Dummy," he said of the unknown driver. He pulled himself in and reached forward with his right arm – he stared for a full three seconds at the bloody mess that used to be his hand. "Fuck," he swore and reached over with his left to turn the key. The van started up reliably enough and he slammed it into reverse, trundling back along the lines until he could turn it around.

_What ya doing? _he thought. _Ya just going to drive back up to the quarry and say – heya guys. Did ya forget something? Did ya miss me?_

He snorted. He was going back to camp to rip Officer Friendly's throat out – then he was going to slam that nigger's face into a tree about half a dozen times – and he might just bitch slap the chink because he could. Then he was going to get his bike and Daryl and they were going to leave that circus to look after themselves.

His vision blurred and he blinked a few times. He was coming down off a pretty big hit, plus he'd been using pretty steadily – not too much to make Daryl more than glare at him, but enough to make their fuckin' ho-hum existence a little more fun. He needed something to eat and some sleep – or another hit. Since fuckin' Officer Friendly had thrown his stash off the roof, he'd have to settle for a sleep. He'd get another hit when he got back to his bike. He turned the wheel of the vehicle, finding a garage which he could park it in, pulling down the door and crawling into the rear of the car. He was asleep in minutes.

"I woke up about midday that next day," he continued. "I was ravenous by then and so fuckin' t'irsty. I broke into tha house – found some food, some Coke – some whiskey, and some pills." He took a breath. "I woke up again tha next morning. They was gone by tha time I got back to tha camp," he shrugged. "T'ere was graves everywhere, plus a whole 'eap of burnt geeks. A glitch 'ad come in at night time – it took out more t'an 'alf tha camp, woulda taken more except for four men – came in from tha road and shot 'em up."

He waited – it didn't take her long. "Oh Merle," she sighed, tears still shimmering in her eyes. "Daryl came for you, didn't he? You stole his van? He, and the others, they had to walk back from the city?"

He nodded once.

"I followed them – t'ere was a note ta a Morgan saying t'ey'd gone ta tha CDC. I found one of t'em," he said abstractly. "'is name was Jim, 'e was a mechanic – pretty good wit' tha tools. 'e must 'ave been bitten – 'e'd turned, was wandering tha road like 'e was drunk. I actually slowed down ta pick 'im up – t'en 'e turned ta look at me." He swallowed. "Tha CDC was gone – but t'ere wasn't a note t'is time. I 'ad no fuckin' idea where he'd go from t'ere – so I just turned 'round and drove. T'en I met Robbie – ya know tha rest."

He sniffed. "T'at's it. Ask ya fourth question woman."

She shook her head. "I only have three tonight– I reserve the right to ask it anytime I want."

He blinked, almost not ready to be released from the seat. Then he nodded and stood up. "I'll go and check 'round t'en – ya git some sleep." He bent over to pick up the rifle and almost started to find her right there in front of him.

She stood up on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek – he was too scared to move. "Thankyou Merle," she whispered.

"For what?" he asked in confusion, keeping his arms tight by his side.

"For telling me all that," she smiled. "I know it was hard for you."

"A deal's a deal," he dismissed, but she wasn't fooled.

She reached forward and grasped one of his fingers off the rifle. "We'll find him Merle. We'll find him."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

OK so there are numerous oblique references here, the destruction at the hospital is based _loosely _on the deleted scene from S2, I can't remember specifically where I have read about Daryl drawing (I know there have been a few including Sketch by GagaWhitney) but Down in The Willow Garden by Praxid has Daryl's mother drawing, the guitar playing came from "Do you Play Sir?" By JoannieSpn, the shed reference came from Shed by Therm, the wedding ring from Too Late for Hallelujah by ArmedWithMyComputer and the locket from Heaven in Hell by Meggo 929. The Poker playing is from Feels Like Home by ArmedWithMyComputer and Whatever It Takes by untapdtreasure who also introduced the concept of strip poker. These were just things I could work in – I know that I have nothing from Love2Chuck or Jaded79 - two of my very favourite authors!


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

"Where are the keys?"

Merle looked up from stowing the tent into the back of the truck. She had been in the tent by the time that he had finished his sweep of the camp, whether they had killed all the resident geeks or whether their shield of geek bodies was working he wasn't sure, but there'd been nothing moving. He could hear her deep breathing as he arrived back at the camp but he hadn't gone in with her though. Instead he sat outside on the log, staring at the dying fire.

"In me pocket," he replied. "Why?"

_He'd almost raped her._

Yes he'd been on the drugs, yes it hadn't been _him_. But it _had_ been him – it had been his hand all over her, his hand that had left that bruise, it would have been him that had pushed into her, that had thrust into her again and again, searching for that release even as she cried and begged him to stop. It would have been him that she would never have been able to forgive.

"I thought I might drive today," she answered and held out her hand.

He snorted. "Dixons don't ride." _Well some of us with two hands still do_ said a voice snidely. _Fuck_.

She had come out at about midnight, barefoot and shivering. "Are you coming to bed?" she had asked.

"I'll stay up on watch," he had muttered. "Git some sleep woman," and he had turned away from her.

He hadn't heard her move and his eyes had closed even before she said "I'm cold Merle."

_Fuck_.

He had crawled into the tent with her, casting a glance over the blankets that she had put out for them _how tha fuck tha woman could be cold with all of that _he didn't know. He laid down on his right side, his back pressed against hers and he heard her sigh as her feet tracked a spot up against his calves, searching for some warmth. She sighed and for few minutes she had seemed to relax. He waited for her deep breathing, but none had come. Instead he heard her head turn on the pillow she had found – he knew she was looking at him, but he refused to turn around, waiting for her to turn back. But she didn't – she turned towards him. Her hand pushed its way underneath his arm, settling gently on his waist, her other arm tucking underneath her head so that her breasts only just grazed against his back.

He had heard Dog sniff and then settle in against the back of her legs, felt her weight pressed harder against him.

"What," she scoffed, "even when they've had no sleep the night before?"

"I got some sleep," he grumbled back.

Sleep had eventually claimed him: it had been her moving against him and not the light of dawn which had dragged him out of it. "Ain't no 'orses ta feed woman," he had grumbled and she snuffed in acknowledgment, and curled up around him again – _that _had effectively ended all chances of him sleeping anymore. He had waited until her breaths had slowed back to an even pace and had then carefully peeled her arm off him and extracted his leg from under hers. The creek had been cold enough.

She snorted back at him, still with her hand held out. "What all four hours of it?"

_He kept forgetting the woman had a watch. _"Imma used ta not 'aving much sleep."

"And I'm used to electricity, running water and clean clothes," she replied tartly, right in front of him now. "Give me the keys please Merle."

She looked like a flustered hen – her arms akimbo, her chest swelled up and her chin up as she glared up at him. He felt the urge to kiss her.

"I'm fuckin' drivin' woman," he snarled. He'd always promised himself that he would never hurt a woman or a kid – and to his knowledge he never had. Although he knew that there would have been some very hazy definitions when it came to the willingness of the other addicts that he had bedded – but he'd always figured that if they didn't protest, that meant it was ok. Marion wouldn't see it that way of course and he felt a measure of shame.

For a further three seconds she glared at him. "Fine," she snapped. "But if you drive us off a bloody cliff because you're too tired..."

"I'm sorry!"

Both of them froze as the words were torn from him – he in shock at what he had said, she that he had said it.

Then her eyes softened and she reached out to him, frowning slightly as he flinched but continuing to hold his arm gently. "I know Merle," she stood up on tiptoes to try and look him in the eye and reluctantly he dropped his gaze to her. "I know and it's alright..."

"It's not alright," he snapped. "I almost raped you," she shuddered and he whirled away from her, leaning over the back of the car and grabbing his head in his hands. "Why don't you hate me?"

_Ya'll never amount to not'in' Merle_ that was his Pa's voice _Ya a Dixon_ – he hadn't heard from him in decades, but it sounded in his ears like it had when he was ten. _And he'd been right_ – for what exactly had he amounted to? He'd failed at everything he'd tried – Daryl had more issues than the local rag, he'd been kicked out of the Marines and what else had he to show for his forty something years on this green earth.

Her hands slid around his waist, he felt the rest of her body press to him – nothing erotic, just a simple reassurance – her cheek against the middle of his back. "Did you want to rape me Merle?"

"No," he shouted furiously, turning back to her. He _wanted_ her – but he wanted _her_. "I was high, I thought... I thought that you..."

"You thought that I was participating," she finished and he nodded. _Crikey he must have been on some good shit_ she thought, but refrained from asking anything about it. "Do you have anymore drugs?" she asked, keeping a good grip on his arms and looking intently at him.

"No," he said quietly this time, meeting her eyes.

"It wasn't you Merle – I get that, hell I _saw_ that," she told him. "If it's never going to happen again," he shook his head, "then there's no harm, no foul."

He took a deep breath.

"Now give me the bloody keys."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

He woke with a start – realising suddenly that not only was the car stopped but that he was alone in it. He opened the door and stepped out, looking around – there was no sign of her or Dog. He opened his mouth to yell, but then changed his mind and looked back in the car.

Her crossbow was gone.

He pulled out the rifle and touched the silenced gun in his belt, then walked around the front of the car to scan the ground. He could see her tracks, and those of Dog prancing next to her – they looked normal, perhaps a little more careful than normal. _So she hadn't just gone for a piss_.

He eased himself through the trees, she'd pulled off the road just at the edge of the forest, the road levelled out into farmland from here. She had walked slowly, being careful where she trod _like she didn't want to make any noise _and he was glad that he hadn't yelled. _What had she found?_ _Why hadn't she called him?_

Her steps started to free up, she was walking normally now. Dog had bounced away from her, Merle couldn't be bothered trying to see where he'd gone, his eyes were glued to the ground where her steps had now been joined with someone else's – someone light, in ridiculous heeled shoes _a woman_. He tightened his grip on the rifle, wondering what she'd been led into and then he heard her.

She was laughing.

He walked into the roadstop with the rifle still cocked, but balanced lightly against his shoulder. Dog saw him first and growled lightly: Marion spun with the crossbow and there was at least one screech and a few gasps from the other women. He counted quickly – there were eight of them. All woman – no men. There was a large bus parked next to what looked like it had been a Roadhouse in better times.

"Merle," she smiled at him. "It's alright."

He hooked her around the shoulders and turned her away, she called out something reassuring to the women, almost having to skip to keep up with him. "Wha' tha fuck is goin' on?" he growled at her.

She blinked and her eyes took on a distinctly frosty tone. "Nothing is _going on_" she replied. "I saw the Roadhouse from the road and saw some figures moving. I got out to scout ahead and met Julia," she nodded back at the pretty blond twenty something wearing the ridiculous shoes.

"Ya left me in tha car alone!" he snapped at her.

"I left you a note," she said indignantly.

"You left me a _note_?" he repeated in outraged astonishment.

"On my seat," she nodded. "Well you were asleep and..." She stopped and actually looked a little embarrassed. "Ok, fair point – sorry." _Fuck she said it easy. _She looked at him and judged that his temper had been because of worry about her than the fact that she had left him alone. "I thought we might be able to help them?"

"What happened to trading?" he snarled, but for form only. From what he could see, there wouldn't be much to trade here.

The bus had broken down a couple of weeks ago he was told by one of the women. They were all in their twenties – a couple of real lookers, a couple really not, all of them built on lean lines which had more to do with their previous lives than a shortage of food. They were what was left of a college hockey team – they had been stuck away from home when the illness had escalated into the apocalypse – four of their team had gotten sick and died. Then three more had been bitten and died. Those that had made it to the bus had been driven off by the driver, they'd headed north towards Atlanta where the evacuation camps were meant to be – but this was as far as they'd made it before the bus had broken down. The Roadhouse had been stocked up pretty good, they'd managed to survive this long – but now food was starting to run scarce.

"You've just been waiting here?" asked Marion, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

"What else could we do?" asked Rebecca, one of the older ones. She flicked her eyes over Merle before turning back to Marion. "When Martin died it was only us girls. We thought... we thought someone would come for us."

_Fuck's sake_ thought Merle, rolling his eyes. He received a jab in the ribs _and she wasn't even looking_ and he brought himself back to the conversation.

"Perhaps we could help you a bit," Marion was saying.

_We huh_? he thought later with his head stuck in the back end of the bus. He'd grabbed one of the older ones, she looked a bit like a shovel had hit her in the face when she was a kid, but she seemed almost intelligent and was able to pass him most of the tools that he needed and listened to his instructions to get the thing going again. He received a cheer when the engine roared to life and his teeth gritted. He then walked back to their car and brought it down to the Roadhouse, parking it away from the bus and glaring at the girls who looked curiously over at the boxes in the back.

Marion had been bent over a table inside looking at a map with Rebecca – she turned as he walked in. "Success?" she smiled at him and he nodded, her nose twitched as he got closer. "Eww – you stink."

"Fuckin' thing had burst a fuel hose," he complained. "Engine was flooded with gas – I had to bleed it all out."

"There're showers," she suggested. "Cold water though."

He shook his head and she sighed, wincing a little but saying nothing as he came to stand next to her and look over the map.

"Bec has been saying that there's been a bit of movement in the last couple of weeks. A convoy of vehicles came down the mountain last week," she met his gaze blandly. "They looked a bit scary to flag down."

_Oh fuck_.

"We're all girls," Bec was saying, obviously seeing his disgust in his face. "We couldn't be sure that they were friendly. There have been some..."

"There were twelve of them," Marion put in. "The others, they just disappeared."

"Prob'ly got eaten," shrugged Merle and got a pained glance from Marion. "Well if t'ey'd been 'gathered'," and he saw that she recognised the significance of the term, "t'en t'ere would 'ave been someone comin' 'ere."

Marion nodded in acknowledgement. "You haven't seen any geeks around?" she asked Bec.

"Geeks?" Bec frowned.

Marion waved her hand in a clear 'don't ask' manner. "The not-so-dead people."

She shook her head. "Not since Martin." She swallowed – she'd been the one to take the hockey stick to the old man, after he'd got up off his deathbed. "Are there more?"

_Fuck's sake_ "I'm goin' ta 'eat up some water for a wash," Merle all but groaned.

Marion's mouth twitched but her voice was controlled as she nodded to Bec. "There are some more around yes Bec." She paused. "What exactly did you have in mind to do? Now that the bus is fixed?"

Bec looked at her blankly and Marion sighed, bending over the map and talking quietly for some time.

"What exactly are we trading for all of this?" Merle asked her later on as she was delving into the boxes in the back of the truck.

Marion straightened and gave him a sheepish grin. "Information?"

He snorted. "On what?"

"That Fort Benning may be viable," she answered.

"We would 'av found t'at out ourselves," he grumbled.

"I know," she sighed. "But we can't leave them like this."

He gave her a look. _He probably could_ but he knew she couldn't. "Just don't overdo it woman," he advised.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I'm goin' ta do a perimeter walk," he replied. "Just 'cause they ain't seen no geeks, don't mean t'ere might not be one tonight."

"Oh thankyou Marion," Bec said happily as Marion handed out some cans of food. One of the girls took them and started emptying them onto plates and Bec put a hand gently on her arm. "You've been really good to us – are you sure there isn't anything we can do for you?"

Marion smiled. "It's alright Bec – you told us about that convoy."

"That's not enough," Bec shook her head. "There's got to be something else we can do for you."

Marion doubted it. "Really Bec – it's ..."

"I could cut your hair," said Julia and Marion stopped talking. "Give it a bit of style back?" continued Julia and Marion looked around, noting that all of the girls _did_ have impeccable hair, if nothing else. "I am a hairdresser," Julia went on. "I've got my scissors and stuff – I used to cut hair at the tournament."

Marion smiled, pushing her hand through her hair ruefully. "That would be nice actually Julia. I used to have my hair short – there's no point doing that now, but if you could tidy it up and cut it so it can just grow out instead of whatever _this _is, that would be lovely."

Julia nodded enthusiastically and skipped away.

"And what about for your husband?" said Bec cautiously.

Marion smiled. "Merle's not my husband Bec." _Not really_. "I don't think Merle needs a haircut."

"He's done so much for us – getting the bus fixed, setting up that hot water for some showers," Bec paused. "Perhaps we could offer him ... _other_ things," she suggested somewhat hesitantly.

Marion blinked. "Um – well yes, I suppose you could."

"He's a very well built man," said Bec. "When he was having his wash..."

"Yes he is Bec," interrupted Marion quickly, grabbing her lip between her teeth firmly. _What is it with these young women?_

"It's just," Bec swallowed. "We haven't _seen_ a man since Martin – and he was in his 60s." She shrugged. "It doesn't worry Allison or Sandra of course, but the rest of us..." she sighed. "That is as long as we aren't stepping on your toes..." she added hastily.

Marion shook her head. "Merle makes his own decisions Bec."

Bec smiled and Julia bounced back with her scissors.

Merle walked into camp and frowned. _What the fuck?_ He shook his head at the sight of Marion getting her hair cut. She looked up and he shook his head again, he hadn't sighted a single geek. _This little place must be enchanted_ he thought, wondering slightly at the twinkle in her eyes as she looked at him. He shrugged it off, he'd ask her later, and walked up to the table to get some dinner. There were some giggles as he approached and he looked at Bec and three of the others with a slight frown, then shrugged inwardly and reached over to get his plate.

With the exception of her being able to see without flicking hair sideways off her face, he couldn't see much difference when she finally sat down next to him and started eating – but she seemed pleased so he grunted something that could have sounded like approval. She smiled back at him, seemingly preoccupied with something else and ate quickly and strangely silently. She got up straight after dinner and headed to bed in the tent that he had set up earlier in the day.

He finished chewing meditatively _she was pissed at him_ he figured, but he didn't know about what.

"Excuse me ... Merle?" he looked up.

Marion curled up in a ball in the blankets, shivering a little. There were plenty of blankets, but the cold was seeping up through the ground and without his presence behind her she was having some trouble keeping warm. _And she'd be having trouble for all of the night _she figured. She sighed _don't be such a bitch Marion_ she chastised herself. _It's not like you're going to... why can't he get it somewhere else?_ It was almost a plaintive voice that replied. _Because you want him – and you want him to want you. He just has to wait until you're ready._ She snorted. _Merle is not the type to wait._

"Crap," she said softly to Dog and rubbed at his head.

The footsteps were loud and angry and she sat up in half alarm. Merle burst in through the tent flap, kicking his boots off and dropped down next to her, almost yanking the blankets over him. "Git ta sleep woman," he growled over his shoulder at her. "We're leavin' first t'in' in tha mornin'."

Marion smiled, pushing her feet against his.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"Ya sent 'em where?" he demanded, turning his eyes off the road to look at her in disbelief.

"To Babylon," she repeated.

"Ya know wha' Elijah will want ta do wit' 'em," he snapped.

She shrugged. "I told all of that to Bec – I warned her what would be expected."

"And she was ok with all of that?" he was disbelieving.

"Bec's not stupid – most of the others," Merle snorted. "But not Bec. She knows that they couldn't cope for too much longer without some help – without some men," she added slightly impishly.

It went over the top of his head. "Oh-ho, I bet that hurts ya women's lib shit don't it?" he all but crowed. "Admitting that a bitch can't get on without a man."

"It depends on the woman – her training and her capabilities," she fired back. "A woman can do pretty much everything a man can, given the right tools. As can a man do what women can," she added fastidiously. "But those woman," she grimaced. "They did need a man."

He sneered, then he suddenly looked at her. "You knew!"

"Knew what?" she asked innocently.

He glared at her. "I ain't no fuckin' gigilo woman!"

"Well I didn't think it was such a big ask," she retorted with spirit. "There were 6 women – all good looking, half starved for some male attention and all wanting a piece of you." She shrugged, "I thought that you would dive in. Why didn't you?" she asked curiously.

_Because I can't think of anyone else except you_. "Fuckin' hairy armed skanks," he snarled instead.

She rolled her eyes at him.

He looked at her suddenly. "Six of 'em? What about the other two?"

"They were," she gave a delicate cough, "more interested in me."

"Wha'?" he shouted, turning to her and Dog growled. "Ya mean ta tell me that a pair of carpet munchers wanted ta..."

"Merle!" her outraged exclamation covered over the rest of what he said, blushing furiously.

"And ya said no?" he shook his head, still looking at her. "Hell sugartits – that was somethin' worth trading for!" He looked down her body, imagining what a couple of lesbians could do with her rack.

"Do you want me to drive Merle?" she asked suddenly

"Wha' tha fuck for?" he demanded savagely, looking back up at her.

"Because you're not!" (1)

He snapped his eyes to the front. "Fuck" he swore and dragged the wheel across sharply. Dog yelped as he slid off Marion's lap and landed in the footwell. He glanced over at Marion and got an arch look, he just shook his head. A thought suddenly struck him.

"You reckon t'ey'll go ta Babylon?" he ventured.

Marion nodded, a smile teasing around her lips. "I gave Bec a message to give them." He looked at her. "With love from Mr and Mrs Dixon."

He snorted, she giggled. He had to pull the car over.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) Credit to Twister.


	48. Chapter 48

As a bit of housekeeping, this is day 54 after M&M met, in mid December (17th to be precise). I figure that the 'group' has moved off the farm by now just because we never saw them have a Thanksgiving dinner nor were they gearing up to Christmas, which I think there would have been some effort with for Carl's sake at least. So I think that we are into S3 here and M&M will never see the idyllic surroundings of the Greene farm.

Chapter 48

"Where is it?" she demanded to herself, putting the lid back on the box and moving to another one. Her voice was barely above a whisper, rasping almost painfully. Dog whined and she looked down at him "Don't you start with me – it's been a _stressful_ night." He ducked his head and laid it on his paws, looking up from underneath his brows. She ignored him and turned back to her search– _she needed chocolate._

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

_I don't blame you Merle_ she thought. _I know it wasn't you_ she tried again. She sighed, looking around again. _It's me – every time you touch me I feel ... and I can't... I just can't._ She rubbed at the empty spot on her finger. The words just wouldn't sit right, it wasn't something that she could explain to him. _Hell _she was lucky if she could explain this conflict to herself, the yearnings of her body, the grief in her heart and the analytical understanding of her head. But when he hadn't returned after being an hour on a perimeter search which normally took twenty minutes she decided _enough was enough_. She wasn't sure how the conversation was going to come out, but come out it would – as soon as he came back. So she sat in front of their fire, shivering despite her jacket and eventually she was rewarded with a growl from Dog.

"Dog," she chastised. "That's a bit harsh," she added as the intensity of his growl registered. She knew that Dog has his issues with Merle, and Merle with Dog, but despite the little hiccup with the biting of the ankle they had seemed to tolerate one another better since they had left the Roadhouse _Dog probably approves of Merle's self imposd no touching rule _and the venom in the low growl surprised her. _He's probably picked up on her tension_ she thought and turned towards where Dog was looking, frowning when Merle didn't immediately step out.

Her mouth opened to call to him _if he was hiding there until she went to bed..._ she thought furiously, but then her mouth closed abruptly.

The figure that stepped out from behind the trees was not Merle and he carried a gun, serious looking weaponry, which was aimed straight at her. She flicked her eyes to the crossbow, not only was it too far away, it was still unloaded. Her sword was lying on the ground immediately behind her, but she didn't back her chances against a bullet. She took in the man in front of her – he was young, he'd be lucky to be eighteen, he was dressed in camouflage pants and shirt, he had paint over his face in a wildly artistic collage of greens, greys, blacks and browns.

She smiled at him. "G'day mate."

His eyes flicked around, he spun on his heel to look behind him, then spun back – aiming the gun at her head. Marion bit her lip despite the seriousness of the weaponry. "Where's ya group?" he demanded. "Ya group, I asked ya where ya group is," he continued almost shrilly.

"No group," she shrugged and placed her hands either side of her on the log, her fingers almost touching the hilt. "Just me and Dog,"

"Dawg?" repeated the boy, looking wide eyed at Dog as if trying to figure out how he was a threat.

"Yup," she nodded, still trying to maintain some casualness. "My name's Marion – what's yours?"

He blinked and straightened his gun at her head again. "Corporal Williams – Roger," he snapped out.

"Well Corporal Williams – Roger," she repeated in suitably impressed tones. "Pleased to meet you."

"Wha' ya doin' in our sector?" he demanded

"Sector?" she repeated in questioning tones. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Fort Benning sector," he repeated. "We're here ta stop tha dead from escaping Fort Benning."

_That didn't sound good_ she winced a little. "Well Roger," she said in docile tones. "_I _am not dead. And _I'm_ trying to get _to_ Fort Benning."

That knocked him back a little she saw and she bit her lip as he looked around, trying to figure out which direction she had actually come from. "Why?" he finally asked.

"I thought that I might be able to find someone in charge there."

"We're in charge," he snapped back at her.

"Whose 'we' Roger?" she inquired.

"The Georgian Defence Army," he replied in grandiose terms.

_Ah_ thought Marion, her slight hope at actually having found someone associated with an established military dying abruptly. "The Georgian Defence Army," she nodded. "There many of you?"

"Why ya want ta know that?" he demanded, taking a step forward and pushing the gun almost into her face. "Ya a spy sent 'ere to in... in... spy on us?"

Marion grabbed her lip firmly between her teeth even as she put a hand on Dog's neck as he stood, his hackles up. _Really except for the gun in her face, she might actually be enjoying herself_. "No, no," she said seriously. "Just a traveller; I'm just passing through."

"All travellers must pay a tax," he snapped.

Her eyes narrowed. "A tax? Really? And what type of tax are you thinking of Roger?"

His eyes gave him away, sliding over her form and lighting up with greed and lust.

_Stupid power hungry little boy._ She stretched her fingers back to the sword, wrapping her hand around the hilt and then lifting the blade slightly. "How about we don't Roger and say we did?"

He licked his lips, levelling his gun at her face. "Take off ya clothes." Dog growled.

"No," she shook her head.

"No?" he repeated in confusion. "I got a gun on ya bitch!"

"I did see that Roger. I would suggest that you put it down before you get hurt," she said calmly.

He laughed. "Ya can't 'urt me bitch, ya don't even 'ave a gun!" he said as a clincher to the argument.

"I don't need a gun," she smiled. "I have a Merle."

"A what?" he frowned.

"A Merle," Merle growled in his ear and brought the butt of his rifle down hard on his head, not even trying to catch the boy as he slid to the ground in a heap. Merle glared at Marion, who was giggling on her log. "Wha' tha fuck ya playin' at woman?"

"Oh it was a classic film reference (1), I couldn't help myself!" she chuckled, standing up and walking over to him. "Well not Merle obviously, the actual term was..." she suddenly had a thought that he may not appreciate the term. "oh, I forget. I hope you didn't hurt him too much."

"Hurt him too much," he repeated blankly. "Woman – this lit'le prick was fixin' ta rape ya." He flinched at his own words.

"Pfft," she snorted. "He's only a boy."

Merle moved quickly, snatching her hard against him and trapping her arms against her side, grabbing her hair with his hand and dragging her head backwards. Her eyes widened as she stared up him – she saw his eyes darken and then he almost thrust her away from him, his voice almost a snarl. "Even boys can be stronger than you woman."

Marion took a deep breath, her body buzzing. "You were there."

"How tha fuck could ya know t'at?" he demanded, seeing her tremble. "I coulda been anywhere."

"Dog growled," she said simply and he blinked. "Now what are we going to do with this twit?"

"First t'in's first," he grunted.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha" (2) she crowed as she lifted a lid. She had a moment of doubt and looked around – Dog was still sitting looking at her with his tail between his legs, there was no movement around. "Merle?" she called out, although with her voice he would probably have had to be on top of them to hear anything. He'd only been gone ten minutes – he'd be a while yet. She turned back to the box _Cherry Ripe or peppermint? Decisions, decisions._

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"That doesn't look good," she commented wryly.

He turned to glare at her. _Fuckin' stating the obvious. _

Young Roger had been most forthcoming when he'd come to and found himself bound to a tree and staring down the blade of Merle's knife. _The suggestion Merle_ she'd told him, _the suggestion is often much more powerful than the actual act_. So he hadn't beaten the shit out of the toerag, he'd just sat back and sharpened his knife while Marion mused about what parts of the human anatomy tasted the best and the appropriate ways to cook them.

It had taken them half an hour, after tying and then stringing Roger up out of the reach of any geeks that might just happen past (another one of Marion's stipulations), to reach the crest that overlooked the road to Fort Benning – the one they had turned off a little early because of the creek and a need to replenish their supplies.

_He should have known of course_ he reflected; they'd had it easy over the last ten days since they'd left the Roadhouse. There'd been geeks – they'd dealt with those, with the crossbow, knife and sword as much as possible to conserve the bullets, although the quiver was starting to look a bit empty – they hadn't been able to recover all their bolts. There'd been road blocks –they'd dealt with those, she'd been relatively easy to teach how to hotwire cars although she'd thrown her hands up after she'd killed the tenth computer based engine and he'd had to push it out of the way 'I can make computers do work – I'm the Excel queen and can format anything but I just cannot get my head around how they work'. The only thing he'd had to worry about was the horror, the shame of what he'd almost done to her. She flinched everytime he touched her – so he had been keeping his hands to himself, he'd kept himself busy cleaning the guns until she was asleep (cleaning the crossbow had been no use because she'd stayed to watch how it was done) before climbing into bed, he slept with his back to her, he was up before she was awake.

"We gotta bug out," he said. "We gotta leave tha car," he said.

She turned to him with wide eyes. "Really?"

"Well ya t'ink we can drive t'rough t'at?" The camp site was spread either side of the road, several HMMWV parked towards the road, mounted with equivalents of the 50cal. There was about thirty of them that he could see, but the light was fading quickly, so he knew he could be missing some. Plus if Roger was any indication, there were probably some on patrol. They were all men that he could see, dressed in fatigues and packing some serious heat – but not necessarily American weapons. _Fuck._

She tipped her head, acknowledging his point. "But Merle – the _car_?"

He understood – the car not only carried all their supplies, it offered a measure of security and most importantly, it offered them an avenue for retreat. But they were low on fuel – the hamlet on the other side of the camp was where they'd been planning to fill up. While there was likely another way, they would have to drive back for a few hours – even a day, to find a main road that was actually marked on the map, the risk of taking a smaller unmapped road too great. They wouldn't be sure of making it. Whereas on foot he knew he could get them around undetected – there was only one man on the planet who could track him – and they'd pick up another car easy enough. They'd just take the essentials.

"We ain't got no choice woman," he replied. "Tha toerag radioed in – t'ey know we're 'ere."

"No," she said slowly and looked up at him with a slight smile. "They know _I'm _here."

He looked at her and slowly the smirk grew.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

The first bite was like heaven and her eyes closed in bliss. She let the chocolate around the outside of the Cherry Ripe bar melt in her mouth for several seconds, then crushed the cherry flavouring so it burst into life in her mouth. She chewed it a couple of times, enjoying the coconut texture, releasing all of the flavour across her tastebuds and then swallowed. The second bite she chewed directly, mixing the chocolate with the cherry in a delightful blending. _Damn shame they're so small_ she thought and bit again, folding down the wrapper and putting the bar to her mouth.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Marion blinked a little in the headlights of the vehicles as she coasted to a stop. She reached down and wound down her window – straightening and finding the barrel of a gun in her face. "Hey," she exclaimed. "Do you mind arsehole?!"

The figure in front of her, kitted out like Roger but with a bit more age behind him, started at her tone. He apparently wasn't used to that level of confidence when he pointed his gun at someone. Then he pulled his gun back, aiming the butt at her. "Kevin!" said a sharp voice and he paused, looked over his shoulder slightly uncertainly and retreated a couple of steps.

"Good evening ma-am," said a deeper voice and her eyes narrowed as she took in the broad man, walking with a level of assurance that wasn't possible to fake. _Head honcho_ she decided.

"Good evening sir," she replied. "How are you?"

He took her composure without a blink, smiling back as he leant against the window, his face not that far from hers. He took in her figure, the empty seat next to her and the accumulation of bags in the back seat. His eyes flicked to the back window, glancing over at the boxes in there. "I'm just fine tonight ma-am. What have you got in there?"

"Just some supplies," she replied easily. "There's a box full of alcohol if you want it."

His lips stretched in a smile. "Where are you headed?"

"Fort Benning," she replied sighing inwardly _it had been worth a try_.

"I'm afraid you aren't going to make it there tonight ma-am," he said regretfully and pulled at the door handle. The door didn't open and he looked back at her.

"Oh I know that," she replied lightly to his words, ignoring his actions. "I'm just going to go to Fineflower tonight – I'll head to Fort Benning tomorrow."

"That won't be possible," he said to her.

"Oh?" she raised her brows. "Is there a roadblock or something ahead?"

She could see him wondering exactly how stupid she was, but kept her face blank purposely. "No-one gets past us ma-am," he said slowly. "Not until you've answered some questions. I'm going to ask you to get out of the car," he reached in and pulled the lock on the door, then reached for the handle. The sound of the door locking again made him blink and he looked up suddenly.

"And I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline," she said softly. "Let me through please – for your own good."

He laughed. "You're threatening me girl?" He indicated the group of men surrounding the vehicle. "Just what do you think you're going to do?"

Marion sighed and tapped the brake peddle. She smiled at the man before her and he frowned in confusion, then recoiled as there was a sudden explosion to his side. There were yells around the camp, several of the men near the car hit the ground before resurfacing and running over to where a bright fire was now consuming one of the main tents. _Impressive_ she thought in satisfaction.

"Ya bitch!" he yelled at her and reached in to open the car door.

"Ah-ha," she shook her finger at him, pointing the silenced gun at him from her lap. "Now – unless you want a repeat performance..."

He snorted and she sighed, tapping the brakes once more. _One, two, three_ she counted and then the grenade they'd recovered from Roger's belt exploded, his aim was good obviously because there was then a second, much larger explosion and the stockpile of fuel ignited.

He was beyond words now with fury. "Now – perhaps if you would be kind enough to walk me through to the other side?" she instructed. She watched his teeth grate and added in a cold tone. "Do you _want_ to have any fuel left?"

He glared at her, but with a wary glance at the gun he nodded once.

"Let's go," she smiled at him and motioned with the gun. He walked forward slowly, the Ford coasting along next to him, Marion smiling at the slightly perplexed soldiers in the cars as they watched her go by.

"What have you done to Roger?" he gritted out as he walked, her gun sitting just on the edge of the window.

She shrugged, a smile teasing on her lips. "He's fine – just hanging around and contemplating proper respect for women. You'll find him easy enough when it's light."

"You are going to pay for this bitch," he snarled.

"Do you take traveller's cheques?" she enquired archly.

He fumed and she lifted the gun a little, he gritted his teeth and continued walking. They were almost through the camp now, there were men everywhere behind them, trying to fight the fire that had spread from one tent to another and from one of the caches of fuel to ... there was an explosion as the second cache exploded.

She flinched in reflex and he turned, knocking the gun out of her hand with his right hand and reaching for her throat with his left. His right hand came back up with a gun in it and he pressed it against her forehead – she hit the accelerator and spun the wheel – the bullet hissed past her ear, there was a flash in front of her eyes and the sound rang through her skull like a sledgehammer. There was a sound as the Ford sideswiped him, his left hand tightened on her throat and black spots swirled around her eyes – then he lost his feet from under him and disappeared with a yell. The Ford bumped and she winced, but didn't look back as she flew between the two cars guarding the other end of the road. She heard the da-da-da-da-da-da of the heavy guns and ducked down, keeping her head as low as she could. The guns stopped and she lifted her head to glance in the rearview mirror – there were bodies slumped over the weapons.

She pulled the car to a halt, turning off the lights but leaving it running as she opened the door and found the gun behind her seat. She held it ready as she did a quick circuit of the car, checking the tyres and the body – she could see where the bullets had impacted but it didn't look like anything vital had been hit. _Come on come on_ she stressed, keeping her eyes out for signs of pursuit from the camp. They seemed to be a little bit too pre-occupied with the fires and continuing, although smaller, explosions at the camp but she was still worried about potential outliers.

There was a rustle behind her and she whirled, holding the gun up with both hands, focussed on the noise.

Dog bounced out and she sighed in relief, Merle only a couple of steps behind him. "Ya ok woman?" he demanded.

She nodded. "Fine." He frowned and she cleared her throat, trying again, "Fine. You?" she bent down to acknowledge Dog who was overjoyed at being back with her again.

"I'm good," he nodded. "Come on – let's get outta here."

But she wasn't really she decided as she sat by herself on a log a couple of hours later. He'd assured her that there would be no pursuit when she'd kept turning her head: she didn't really need to know why he was so confident of that, but she trusted that he was right. He'd pulled up, helped her set up the tent and then with a sound that might have qualified for speech in Neanderthal times he left her alone. Again. She took a deep shuddering breath and her eyes drifted to the truck. _Chocolate._

"Tha creek's fuckin' cold woman, ya should..." Merle paused suddenly, looking down into very very wide and slightly horrified brown eyes. He looked at the red foil wrapper in her hands and then back to her face. She swallowed and slowly a smile spread across his face. _Payback. _"You don't have to be beautiful," he sang jauntily as he walked past her to the car.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) Think Julie Andrews as Mary Poppins finding her measuring tape at the bottom of the carpet bag. And yes – would you believe it, there is a Youtube video for it (Well Begun is Half Done)

(2) Youtube again (perhaps I should get shares) – type in "I have a Donk" although you may have to have the Australian gene to appreciate it. I was also trying to get in "that's not a knife" but couldn't make it work. Maybe later...

Yes, there is a place called Fineflower – maybe not in Georgia, but I drove through it on my holiday and that was the name that popped into my head.

According to the very reputable Yahoo answers, my northern hemisphere readers may not know what a Cherry Ripe is and Marion was probably unlikely to have found one at the shopping centre Simon referred them to. But that's my comfort food, so let's just presume that it was a very special store. For those who are curious google Cherry Ripe and take a look at the images – mmmm hmmmm


	49. Chapter 49

A short little one – just for fun really but we do get serious towards the end. May I respectfully suggest that you tee up the Youtube ready to be playing as you read? My personal preference is Tom Jones, but that's because I can't take Prince's voice or chest seriously.

Chapter 49

Marion awoke to the smell of cooking bread. Normally the odour would bring her out from the blankets quickly, but today there was a leaden weight holding her down. She was alone of course, she'd gotten used to that since the Roadhouse. He'd doubled up the blankets over the top of her when he'd left, which was probably why she hadn't woken earlier but now the cold was seeping up through the ground and she shivered. She rolled onto her belly, pulling her arms underneath her to try and capture a bit of warmth so she could stay in bed longer.

Dog moaned in protest and moved to keep himself against her warmth, he shivered a little.

She glared at him. "Traitor," she whispered and he put his ears down. "Of all the times to decide that you _like _him!"

Dog thumped his tail a little uncertainly but she turned away, burying her head in her hands. _Poo bum piddle piss _she thought, banging her head lightly on her fists.

Merle had hummed the bars of the song for the rest of the night while they'd eaten something quickly from their supplies. He'd been humming it when she left the camp to relieve herself, he was humming it when she got back, he was humming it when she brushed her teeth, he was humming it when she went to bed, he was even humming it later when he joined her under the blankets – albeit very quietly because he thought she was asleep. There was no way that he was not going to call her on the bet.

_FUCK_ she screamed inside her head. She took a breath. _Right_ she decided with sudden resolution _get up Marion._

He glanced over at her from the fire and smirked.

_Oh crap_.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle sat down in the chair and uncapped his beer. He glanced over at the tent. "Anytime woman."

It probably wasn't the wisest idea to stay this close to the _fuckin' _Georgian Defence Army but he'd left them a few little surprises to find and he doubted that they would be in a position to come after them this early. Last time he'd looked they'd lost three caches of fuel, two jeeps, several tents, their leader had been run over and there was the start of a forest fire which may have barbequed Roger. If it had been him, he would have been _highly _motivated to find them – but they may have decided that the price was already too high.

_And besides – a deal is a deal. _They could leave after this.

The tent opened and she stepped out and his breath caught. She looked almost exactly the same as that first day – perhaps a little slimmer and her arms were definitely more toned, a bonus from her use of the crossbow. Her bust was encased in a black bra, a sturdy vehicle with just a touch of lace across the top and the only other clothes she wore was a pair of shortettes which sat just on her hip bones and finished just at the top of her thigh. He felt his body start to stir.

She walked to the area in front of him, well out of reach but close enough that he could see the slight tremble of her bottom lip. _She was scared of him_ he realised suddenly and his teeth gritted. He should let her out of this he knew – he'd scared her _that_ night and even though he'd tried to keep his hands to himself ever since, every time he did actually touch her she'd flinch and he knew that she was reliving it. _Ya a class act brother_ came the voice and he had no comeback.

"Marion," he started.

"_Don't_," she held up her hand and rasped out painfully. He frowned _what was wrong with her voice. _"Just sit there – _don't_ move. And close your eyes." She eyed off the beer doubtfully _it was a bit early _but decided that she really wasn't in much of a position to argue.

"T'at sorta defeats tha whole purpose woman," he griped, somewhat relieved at the touch of asperity in her tone.

"Just..." she swallowed. "Oh ok," she sighed and closed her own, taking a deep almost shuddering breath.

She stood there for a few moments, her legs slightly apart and her hands on her hips. His gaze traced her legs from ankle to that enticing and very smooth section of thigh, over the top of her belly to that tantalizing section of curves. He swallowed and looked up. Her eyes opened suddenly and she looked at him stricken – suddenly he realised her problem.

He started huskily

"You don't have to be beautiful

to turn me on,

I just need your body, baby,

from dusk till dawn."

_But you are._

_You do, and:_

_oh fuck yeah._

She had started to move when he had started to sing, her own still raspy voice joining in slightly hesitantly. Her hips swung from side to side, then her hands flipped over to her backside, then to her head _fuck _then out to the side of her shoulders and she was stepping sideways, crossing her legs one over the other while her arms pumped, turning and then back again. Her hands snapped back up again and it was her bust moving then from side to side, her hands twisting out towards him, then she kicked out her hip, slapped her hand on her butt and then bent over, her head coming up as her hand started at her throat and wiped all down her chest, down her stomach and onto the top of each thigh. "I just want your extra time and your KISS."

Merle had stopped singing some time earlier, his breath had dried up in his throat and his beer sat forgotten in his hand. He knew that the dance was not meant to be a strip tease or at all erotic, she had once told him that it had been the only exercise DVD which had managed to not bore her because of the music. But as he stared at her as she moved, throwing her whole body into the movements he couldn't help but be turned on.

She twirled around, waving her butt at him as she lowered herself to the ground, her knees wide. He saw her hands reach for her ankles and then she straightened her legs, pulsing with her upper body and he almost groaned, swallowing the noise at the last moment.

"I think I'd better dance now..." she sang as she turned back to him, and running up and down on the spot, bouncing those glorious breasts until he was sure that they were going to escape their confines, then she lowered herself towards the ground, tracing her hands over her breasts, her belly and over the black fabric at her junction as she spread her legs _right there in front of him_.

_He was going to explode_ he thought as she danced. She was totally oblivious to him now, her eyes were closed and she had the music in her head.

"Women and girls, rule my works, I said they rule my world," she said, kicking out her leg and spinning, bending over and tracing her hands along from her ankles all the way up to her bust.

Merle swallowed and almost forgot to breathe as she stepped around, her bust bouncing and her hips jiggling.

"I just want your extra time and your KISS".

He stared at her, his mouth half open, his beer held loosely in her hand and she stared back, breathing heavily, slightly flushed with a light dusting of sweat. He swallowed. _This would probably be the last time that he got to touch her. _"Come 'ere woman."

Marion stared at him _where had that come from? _she thought, slightly embarrassed with how far she had thrown herself into that dance. She knew where it had come from though, pure feminine instinct, glorying in the power she had over the male of the species. But now that power looked a whole lot different. She swallowed and hesitated; he leaned forward and put his beer on the ground then sat back up. She took a step forward, then another.

"Come on woman," he urged as she hesitated. "A deal is a deal."

"A deal is a deal," she agreed softly. "No hands Merle – or stump," she added and he smirked.

"No hands," he agreed and put both arms behind his back.

She leant in, placing her hands either side of him on the chair arms – his peripheral vision was almost overtaken by the view of her breasts as she leant down, but he kept his eyes on her mouth as she came closer. Her lips settled gently on his, closing over his lower lip and pulling back, dragging his lip with her.

Something exploded within him.

Her lips touched his again and he opened his mouth, teasing her lip with his tongue and her mouth opened obediently, he delved into her mouth, tasting the sweetness. She leant into him and her tongue danced around with his, sending shivers up and down his spine and flaming the inferno that was already in his groin. She pulled away from him for a moment, her eyes met his, she breathed hard. Her teeth took ahold of her lower lip and he hissed. "Woman..." he started.

Marion looked down at him, his blue eyes darkened with lust as he looked at her. _It's just a kiss Marion – just a kiss. _His arms were still behind him – _where's the harm?_

Merle moaned as her mouth came back to him – this time she was hard, she turned her head slightly to get full access, her tongue taking over his mouth as she wrapped it around his, her lips moving demandingly over his.

Then it wasn't just her mouth on his – she lifted a leg and placed it next to his, then the other on his other side – so that her core was pushed right up against his rock hard groin. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she almost pushed him through the back of the chair as she worked her lips and tongue against his.

A wave of desire washed over him and he straightened, bringing their bodies even closer together and felt the brush of her breasts against his chest. He wrapped his arms about her, pushing her harder into him even as he widened his mouth and took over, demanding that she give everything to him. His hand moved up her back towards her bra, fingering the clasp.

"No Merle," she said, pulling away abruptly.

He moved his hand to the back of her head and brought her back to him, taking her lip between his teeth and pulling back gently.

"Stay," he breathed huskily, his forehead against hers.

"I can't," she whispered. _There it is – stupid, stupid._

Cold water hit his veins and he stiffened, dropping his hands away from her and reaching to the sides of the chair.

"Not because of _that_" she burst out, her hands grasping either side of his face and her knees tightening around his hips to ensure that she got his attention.

"Then why?" he pleaded, settling back into the chair.

"Oh Merle," she sighed and buried her face into his shoulder. _Well she did want to have this conversation with him. _She lifted her head up after a second and sat back on his knees, her hands loosely gathered in her lap. "Because just a little bit more than 8months ago I was married with two children. I killed them Merle, I buried them, I survived."

"Ya got not'in' to feel guilty about woman," he started.

"But I do," she almost wailed. "Ben didn't want to come – he thought it was a waste of money and that we should be spending it on our renovations, paying off the house. His family were all going to visit his brother up on his property in the Territory – he wanted to go too. Rachel didn't want to come – separation from her best friend for whole month was like having her throat cut. Jenny wasn't happy either because it meant she would miss out on her birthday party. I _made _them come. I feel like it's my fault they died Merle."

"T'at's horseshit," he replied. "Tha whole fuckin' world got t'is t'in'."

"My brain _knows_ that Merle," she sniffed. "My heart doesn't. I feel guilty all the time – why did I survive when they didn't?"

"Who tha fuck knows why anyt'in' 'appens Marion," he snorted. "It ain't like t'ere's a grand plan and everyone has a role. Sometimes tha dice just don't roll your way."

She sniffed, wiping her eye. "Maybe that's it. I suppose I always thought that there was a reason for everything. That shitty stuff happens to one person because it makes them stronger or because it means that someone else will get something good happen to them."

He snorted. "No fuckin' grand plan in me life sugar – just one giant fuck up. I wouldn't blame you if ya didn't want a bar of me."

She smiled and lowered her mouth to his, gently, fleetingly. "The flesh is willing Merle, believe me it's _very _willing." His body reacted immediately – she must have felt it with the way she was sitting. "But the spirit is weak." She hesitated, "I need you to wait for me. Can you wait for me?" she ended doubtfully, then she looked down at herself and her voice took on a slightly stronger tone. "I _have_ come a long way."

He looked down at her underwear clad body, moulded to his body. His own body was still in a state of arousal, burning with desire. _She wanted him_. He could take her then, he knew that. If he kissed her again, if he touched her – he'd have her, she'd give into him, be with him. And she wouldn't blame him – but she'd blame herself.

He wanted all of her.

He surged to his feet and she squeaked, grabbing at his neck with her arms and tightening her knees around his waist. He dropped his hand and stump to under her butt, pulling her closer to him. She stared at him with wild eyes. "I can wait sugar – on two conditions," he released her and slowly lowered her to the ground, spreading the wildfire through his body, his breath catching as she gasped when she slid over his erection. "You keep ya clothes on," he paused until her expression changed to one of outrage and her eyes sparkled at him then leaned in to place a hard but deep kiss on her that left them both gasping for breath. "And we always camp near fuckin' cold water!"

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle pulled up at the driveway and looked through Marion's window. The walls were about three metres high, made of brick and looking very solid with a set of wrought iron gates where the driveway curved up to them between an avenue of trees and the remains of what could have been flowers. There were signs that the creepers and ivy that was hugging the base of the walls had been trimmed away and behind the walls stood a three storey brick building, complete with wrought iron grates on all the windows.

"Something Academic Academy," Marion read the sign with a bit of a struggle – the lettering had faded somewhat. She looked up at the building – something tugged at her, a hint perhaps of a memory, but as soon as she chased it, it ran away. "Is that like some type of school?" she said incredulously, eyeing off what basically amounted to fortifications.

Merle nodded once, shortly – he knew the type of kids that got sent to schools like that.

"Could be safe," Marion offered slightly uncertainly, looking at the walls.

They had been noticed – there was movement on the wall, a figure stalking in from the side.

"They're big mother fucker walls," commented Merle and looked at Marion. She turned back to him and nodded.

Merle put the car into gear and drove away. They'd met enough people to last them a lifetime.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

I hope that felt right to you with how easy it was for Marion despite the whole attempted rape thing. She is a logical being – she knows that the cause of that was the drugs, there are now no drugs (well – if we ignore the purely medicinal ones that they got from the chemist) so she doesn't hold Merle accountable for his actions. Of course if the silly sod was to say by chance find some more drugs and get into them – then I think that Marion would have a different reaction!

No, I cannot dance like that (well not if I expect my audience to keep a straight face) although I had fun trying them out in the safety of late night typing (yes that was too much information). I refer you to Youtube "Jamie Lee Curtis True Lies ", 'Push it' by Salt and Peppa, 'Flashdance' and 'Simply Irresistible' by Robert Palmer for some of what I was trying to describe.


	50. Chapter 50

For those who didn't recognise it, the reference last chapter was from Heaven in Hell by Meggo929 – with whom I am playing a little game of spot the cross reference. Dog has made a somewhat ... er ... interesting appearance within those walls. Cross over – you will enjoy it!

There is some physical movement in this chapter for those somewhat impatient about the lack of 'progress'. I have admit been focusing on the emotional and romantic movement in the last few chapters.

Chapter 50

Marion awoke to the smell of bread cooking and for a moment she luxuriated in the smell. She hadn't believed Merle when he had told her that he could make bread from scratch and after his first doughy attempt the day after the Roadhouse she had remained sceptical. The second loaf hadn't been doughy enough and she'd started to wonder if she needed to find a recipe book and measuring cups. He'd proven her wrong on the third loaf though, which had been hard and crusty on the outside and soft and fluffy on the inside.

Marion awoke to a stump buried up between her breasts, a leg between her thighs and the suggestion of a hardening at her bottom. She sighed and there was a thump thump from in front of her hips where Dog was curled up tightly.

"Ain't time ta git up sugar," he breathed in her ear, his arm tightening just a little around her. "Bread needs anot'er hour." She smiled and closed her eyes again

Marion drowsed pleasantly for the hour, warm with the blankets piled over her and Dog pushed up against the small of her back, where he had moved when Merle had left, whispering in her ear as she had stirred that he was just _taking a piss_. She smiled to herself – _Merle the romantic_. The smell of the bread was quite strong and she sighed, throwing her blankets off. The cold hit her in the face and she shivered – Merle had told her that it was unlikely that they would get any snow now that they were on the flat and while a white Christmas held some romantic appeal to her, she knew that the extra cold would just make things dangerous. She pulled on the jacket hurriedly, shivering in its cold as she slid the zipper up, knowing that shortly her body heat would warm it up and she'd be toasty. Dog shivered from amongst the blankets and she frowned, wondering what she had for him.

A sudden memory made her turn out of the tent, picking up the crossbow from the floor out of habit and striding to the car, climbing into the tray, pulling lids off the boxes in the back and searching through the contents. She smiled in success and then started looking in another box "Blood hairy armed skanks," she groused to herself.

"Wha' tha fuck are ya doin'?"

His drawl came out of nothing only half a second after Dog's light growl and she started – caught her foot on something within the car and windmilled frantically. He moved forward and caught her against his shoulder as she tumbled over the edge, putting his stump up under her knees and lifting her over the edge. "I thought we were goin' ta wait sugar?" he breathed into her ear.

She slapped him playfully on the chest even as she tried to catch her breath. "You scared the shit out of me Merle" she said with a slightly squeaky voice.

He lowered her feet to the ground and took a careful step away from her. "Wha' ya lookin' for?" he asked, looking at the box she'd been searching through. _Fuck couldn't he count? Surely he had another couple of weeks at least until he had to put up with her cycle again?_

Marion blushed a little but showed him the jar she'd found willingly enough "I was looking for the Vegemite," she replied.

"Tha wha'?" he frowned, looking at it briefly before picking up the empty snares he'd dropped to the ground so he could catch her.

"The Vegemite," she repeated as she walked with him back to the fire. "It was a miracle that I found it in that shop – it was buried in with other specialist items. I forgot I had it until yesterday – I thought I'd have some on toast this morning."

Using a towel to shield his hand Merle picked up the lid of the camp oven they'd found at _that_ camp site. His bread had risen nicely and he pulled the oven out of the fire, putting down the lid to use the tongs to pick the bread out of the oven and onto the wooden board that Marion held out for him. "So wha' is it?" he demanded as she cut the bread up into a few slices, holding the bread with her fingertips. The steam clouded up immediately and she shook her fingers to cool them off.

"A delicacy," she assured him. "You put it on your sandwich or toast like you would jam or peanut butter."

He leant over, keeping his distance, to inspect the dark brown contents. His face showed his doubt.

"Really," she continued, turning back to the basket to get some plates and utensils. "You'll have to try..." her voice rose suddenly, "oh not like...that," she finished as he put a fingerful in his mouth.

For a second his face was still – then it contorted into absolute disgust and he turned, hawking and spitting ferociously. "A fuckin' delicacy?" he snarled back at her. "Wha' fuckin' planet are ya from woman?"

She giggled but said with some spirit "Well you're not meant to eat it like that."

"That's how I eat peanut butter," he replied, still trying to get the taste from his mouth.

_No wonder we don't have any of that left_ she reflected. "Vegemite is a more specialised taste Merle – you may actually have to be Australian to have the gene to eat it." She passed him the box of poptarts and ate her own toast with relish.

Merle left her to wash the dishes while he emptied the tent of their gear, then he helped her put it down although he left her to roll it up and get it back into the bag, having very quickly discovered that there were some things that just could not be done with one hand. He walked around the car and double checked her assessment that while the paint had been chipped and one of their water containers had been broken there had been no real harm inflicted by the gun fire. He emptied the final slosh of their fuel into the car, looking at the map and tracing from where her mark designated their camping spot to the little hamlet outside of Cusseta which her tourist map indicated had a gas station. She threw the tent into the back of the truck and he gave the camp site a final glance over and then moved to the car. He froze as he opened the door.

The bullet hole was a small neat circle through the head rest's leather trim, but at the back it was a different story – the whole back of the head rest was blown out. The back seat also had a large hole in it. He looked up as Marion opened the door – she looked at him quizzically, then followed his gaze to the seat and paled, showing off the slight bruising around her throat which he hadn't noticed before. _Covered in glory again hey bro? _"Woman – you and me gotta start talkin' more," he said harshly.

She gave him a tremulous smile and climbed in the car, Dog jumping up and turning around on her lap as she pulled the door closed and then sitting once she pulled her seatbelt over.

They approached Fort Benning from the east, bypassing Cusseta by some farm roads after filling the truck's tank and their spare fuel containers. The number of geeks wandering about had turned them off doing any more of a supply run, Marion had used about a dozen of her bolts keeping the crowd down while Merle had been busy with the fuel – he'd been cursing his one hand the whole time. Merle took them onto a dirt road optimistically named Good Luck Road which seemed to have been the start of a new residential subdivision. There were numerous large machines, dozers, excavators and trucks but no sign of any geeks. There were a couple of buildings at the top of the hill and Merle pulled up next to them, looking over in the distance to where Fort Benning sat in front of Columbus. Marion climbed out of the car, watching Dog for a moment while he sniffed around the bushes contentedly and then followed Merle as he climbed up first onto the top of the truck and then onto the roof of one of the buildings, laying down and placing the rifle's scope against his eye.

"Fuck" he said.

"No good?" she asked, and wordlessly he pushed the rifle over to her. She lay down next to him and looked through the scope – they were probably close to a kilometre away from the base but she could make out enough.

The base was lost, there was no doubt about it. Figures shambled everywhere with no real purpose, there were shells of planes, tanks and HMMWVs on the runway and in amongst the buildings. She moved the rifle over the base, not seeing anything which looked like it belonged to the living. She turned the rifle further towards Columbus – making out the tall buildings which leaned drunkenly to one side, some missing windows, some missing walls.

"T'ey bombed it like t'ey did Atlanta," said Merle dully. _What did they do now?_ "FUCK!" he yelled and slammed his hand into the roof.

Marion automatically reached a hand over to him, resting it on his upper arm and feeling the tensing of the muscles under her hand. She gritted her teeth to try and stop the tears that were threatening _what did they do now?_

Merle rolled over onto his back and looked up into the sky, noting idly the eagle soaring on the thermals above him. _Good pickings for the likes of him_ he thought. He felt Marion shimmy over to him and wrapped his hand around her back as she put her head on his shoulder.

"Any bright ideas?" she asked quietly.

"T'at's yar job sugar," he replied. "Unless ya want ta go back ta Babylon." She snorted and slapped him not so gently in the belly. He recoiled and laughed, trapping her hand with his stump.

"So we have a choice of north, south or west," she said. "What's south?"

"Farming country," he said after a pause. "Lots of wide open spaces. "

She smiled, "that sounds nice. What about west?"

"Tha Chattahoochee," he started.

"The what a whatee?" she said with her head up and a smile on her face.

"Tha Chattahoochee River," he explained. "Ya can see it from 'ere – tha other side of Fort Benning and Columbus," she reached over and braced the rifle across his chest to test his theory. "It's tha border between 'ere and Alabama. Same t'in' over t'ere – lots of farms and forests b'tween."

"And north?"

"We'd 'ave ta git t'rough Columbus first," he warned. "And it gits cold up t'ere sugar."

She smirked at him. "I can handle a bit of cold Merle ," he snorted and her voice rose somewhat with indignation, "We did have frosts at home you know – there's even snow in the mountains and we do have this bloody big thing called Antarctica off the south – the winds off that are pretty damn cold." She slapped him in the chest again as he laughed at her. "I think I might prefer south or perhaps west though. Probably a better chance of being able to make a living."

He put his head back – she was right of course. They needed somewhere safe to hole up, but they also needed to look to the future. Somewhere he could hunt, get together some livestock, grow some fruit and vegetables. _Ma and Pa fuckin' Kettle_ said a sarcastic voice and he snorted. He could just imagine his old man rolling in the grave – a thought which appealed to him immensely. He knew a bit about machinery – surely they'd be able to find enough fuel to keep it going for a while and what he didn't know about animals and plants he was sure she could find a book in a library somewhere that would explain it all. It wasn't like they would be growing large crops and having huge herds – just enough to keep them going.

_Ya lighting out on me brother – again?_

_Fuck_ he thought. _What else could he do?_ he thought. He wanted to find Daryl – hell he _needed _to find Daryl. But how exactly did one go about finding someone in the middle of an apocalypse? It wasn't like he could just ring him – the satellites might be still whirling around there, but the infrastructure on the ground had taken a pounding, not to mention that there wasn't any power around. He'd lost him the day that he decided to snort that shit – something he knew that he was going to regret for the rest of his life but... he looked down at the woman in his arms. If he'd gone back to the camp he'd never have met Marion, and that was something he'd never regret.

_Sorry brother_ he thought _maybe I'll meet you in hell?_ He could almost see the twisted smirk below the bright blue eyes _well ya'll be there first brother – save me a seat _and he blinked _Dixons don't cry. _"Let's go west t'en."

Marion looked up at him with a sad smile. "Are you sure Merle? What about Daryl?"

"'e can look after 'imself woman," he shrugged and he squeezed her when her face clearly indicated that she resented the implication. "Hell woman, I don't even know if 'e's still alive," he lied _only a Dixon can kill a Dixon_. "I got no way of knowin' where 'e's gone. Ma'be I'll find 'im later – when 'is shit 'as settled down and whatever pricks as t'ink t'ey're in charge git their heads outta their ass."

She nodded and dipped her head back into his chest, but not before he'd seen the slight shimmer of tears in her eyes. _This was it for her too_ he suddenly realised. There was no way home for her here – whatever family she might have back in Australia was lost to her forever, as equivocally as Daryl was to him. She was stuck with him and only him – and he was slightly scared by that. _Well she must be fuckin' terrified!_

The noise teased at his consciousness for a couple of minutes while they lay in the sun on the roof, just holding each other. He opened his eyes and tipped his head back to look up in the sky, Marion stiffened slightly and lifted her head, sniffing once and looking up.

"Is that a chopper?" she asked croakily, frowning at the spot in the sky.

He gave her a slight push and she moved off him, he picked up the rifle and got to his knees, holding the scope to his eye. "Fuckin' 'ell," he breathed as he took in the shape of the military helicopter, a sleek black machine skimming through the sky with a helmeted black figure perched halfway out the door, holding nonchalantly to the gun.

Marion took that as a yes. "Is the Georgian Defence Army?" she asked in a slightly worried tone.

He snorted, still looking at the helicopter. "T'em sort of people don't attract tha sort of people who can fly t'em t'in's," he dismissed. "All wannabees t'at type. Men who fly t'em t'ings – t'ey can do." He heard a noise and pulled the rifle back from his eye to see that she'd disappeared off the roof. He stood and walked to the edge, watching curiously as she rummaged through the blankets and stuff in the back seat, under Dog's interested supervision, until she found her bag.

"Is it one of yours?" she asked over her shoulder.

He put the rifle back to his shoulder, although he didn't really need to. "It's a Huey," he nodded. "Prob'bly ours. Why?" he asked.

She came out of the car door and climbed back up to him, extending a hand for him to grab and haul her up quickly. Dog barked from the ground and Merle turned to look, but the dog was looking back at him so he dismissed the noise as jealousy. He turned back to Marion and saw that she had a mirror which she was angling to the sun and then over to where the helicopter was moving through the sky. He came to stand beside her and lifted the rifle to watch for a reaction. He saw the flash on the rotor "down a little" and then it flashed within the interior of the rear section, then it flashed right in the visor of the soldier who turned abruptly. "Ya got 'em," said Merle and watched as the soldier motioned, his helmet a blank visage that was now facing to them. He put both hands on the gun attached to the side of the helicopter and Merle saw the machine turn towards them, seeing the second soldier hanging out the other side also with the weapon trained towards them.

"Ah Merle?" suggested Marion and he looked at her, then hurriedly lowered the rifle although he kept it close to him and moved half a step closer to her ready to move her quickly (if not gently). If the helicopter wasn't friendly – and even if was American military it did seem that there had been a shoot first and ask questions later attitude – then they wouldn't have much chance, but they'd be better on the ground where he could hide her and wait until the pricks hit the ground.

The whump whump whump of the rotors grew louder and louder – the helicopter circled them widely, obviously looking for danger. They circled as well, keeping their faces towards it, Dog barking wildly from the ground, and Marion waved vigorously. The chopper straightened and came towards them, Merle tensed and grabbed Marion closer to him but even as the wind from the rotors buffeted them, sending Dog yelping underneath the vehicle, there was a new noise and he looked up to see papers falling from the sky – then a thump as a small package hit the ground.

Marion pulled herself out of his arm to catch one of the pieces of paper floating towards the ground and then came back to him– Merle looked over her shoulder.

**Warning** – Atlanta and most other cities are Over-Run with Walkers (the dead)

Use EXTREME caution when approaching any towns or cities

Eastern **Safe Zones** have been set up at

The National Guard Armoury at Seward, Nebraska

The Naval Research Laboratory, Washington DC

The Naval Air Station Fort Lauderdale, Florida

You are to make your way to one of these centers for registration.

Walkers can only be killed with a blow to the brain.

The President is alive and is leading the US Military in the recovery efforts.

**GOD BLESS.**

Marion looked up at Merle with bright eyes and he nodded once, she lifted her hand up to the chopper with her thumb up, the soldier leaned out a bit further and returned the sign. Marion then opened both her hands, flashing them three times and threw her hand to the east.

"Wha' tha fuck are ya doing woman?" growled Merle in her ear.

"Sending them to Babylon," she replied as loudly as she could. The soldier's head disappeared for a while, then gave her another thumbs up sign before a short wave. She waved with a smile before suddenly turning her head to Merle with a horrified look as the helicopter lifted. "That is the right direction isn't it?"

He chuckled _take the map off the woman and turn her around once and she was lost_. "Yes – but why send 'em t'ere?"

"Well if Elijah knows that there is a government and other survivors," she shrugged. "Perhaps he won't feel the need to repopulate Georgia."

He snorted. He didn't really think that the sight of a helicopter would be a welcome sight to Elijah – although perhaps Samson might.

"They'll be alright won't they?" she asked in sudden concern. "I didn't think about the Army."

He shook his head. "Tha Army won't 'ave not'in' t'at can worry tha Huey," _not anymore _and she sighed in relief.

"So you know what this means?" she asked. He looked at her in confusion. "Well what do you think two cops would do if they saw a chopper?"

"Flag it down," he nodded, getting an inkling.

She nodded. "Exactly. And they'd get the same leaflet we did – which means..."

"If Daryl is wit' 'em..."

"Then he has the same choice we do," she nodded. She looked at him expectantly. "So?"

"Why's it my choice woman?" he demanded in alarm.

"Well I don't know this place," she retorted. "Do we go to Nebraska, Washington DC or Florida?" she asked.

"Washington DC is the closest – as the crow flies anyway," he thought out loud. _She may as well hear him think it because she'd want to know how he came to his decision._ "But t'ere was a big population t'ere. Florida would be tha next closest – just I t'ink. Again – t'ere's a lot of people down t'ere. Maybe t'ey're cleaned out enough ta get t'rough 'em. It used ta be a museum. Nebraska be over 600miles – but we'd be travellin' t'rough farming country, some forest – be plenty of empty spaces."

"So Nebraska?" she asked doing the mental calculation into kilometres. _She'd driven that far to visit her mother – well almost_ she thought and turned a smile up to Merle.

"It's a long way," he warned. "We gotta cross rivers – including the Mississippi, t'ere's lots o' cities and towns ta go around. And it'll git colder – we'll hit snow."

"You got something else to do?" she asked him.

He looked down at her – she had a purpose now, somewhere to go and she'd brightened. _Maybe she thought she had a way home – she'd just seen a helicopter. _He smiled slowly and shook his head. "Nah – I ain't got anyt'in' else ta do."

She beamed at him. "We're going to need a bigger map."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Seriously – approach Vegemite with caution. A little can be a LOT – but damn it is good and so undeniably Aussie (until of course Kraft was bought out and started trying to mix in cheese with it...)

OK – we _are_ on the map here. However while Google Earth is a magic invention, it (or my use of it) does have some limitations so you may have to accept some artistic license with topography, distances and other details (such as roads). I am a little bit concerned that some very nice gentlemen in suits and sunglasses are going to knock on my door and enquire into my interest regarding military bases in Nebraska, Georgia and Florida noting previous internet activity with regards to AK47s, Marine chants, military helicopters etc. So if you haven't heard from me by Sunday – please sign the petition for my immediate release!

And the film reference was to...? Jaws of course.


	51. Chapter 51

Warning – this is purely a Storagey feelings chapter and dedicated to BigPinkStork (Refer to reviews for C28 if you don't understand the warning – or just proceed ahead blithely) who supplied Merle's half of the material. Let's call it character development and setting the scene for an upcoming chapter.

T'is a rather large chapter, but there are a fair amount of song lyrics. Youtube is your constant companion throughout.

Chapter 51

Merle took them west from their location, driving along the quiet little roads until he brought them to where the river swirled around gently in an almost lake like place.

"T'is do?" he asked as he pulled the car to a stop.

Marion nodded, looking at the boat ramp ahead of them and picnic areas spread along the banks of the river. There were no signs of any previous inhabitants – this close to the city she supposed that they had either been in the city or fled to the military base. Their map had given them enough information to find the two bridges across the river – one _very _close to the base and one a short drive to the south, although 'short drive' wasn't quite the same as it used to be. The others were too close to Columbus to even consider. But Marion hadn't wanted to waste a real river if she didn't have to.

"Yep," she added slightly superfluously since he was already out of the car and opened her door, letting Dog jump out as she undid her seatbelt and followed him, the sword in one hand and slinging the crossbow over a shoulder. Merle reached over and brought out the rifle, the new gun that had come down in the care package from the helicopter slung in his belt. Marion pulled open the back door and the over large bag of washing and then turned to the back of the truck where she found the washboard that he had made for her from corrugated iron and timber. "Which way you going?" she asked.

Merle nudged his chin to the north. "If t'ey come from anywhere it'll be tha base, I'll walk up t'ere a bit, t'en circle back across tha road and come back along tha river."

"I won't need that long to wash these," she replied. "I'll hang them up to dry – we should get enough sunlight to finish them off this afternoon before we move off." She hesitated a little. "Could I borrow your knife please?"

He flicked his eyes to her, but pushed the rifle underneath his stump and pulled out the blade, taking the couple of steps to hand it to her hilt first. "Ya goin' ta kill tha gators wit' it?"

She laughed at him as she took the blade, putting it in the waistband of her jeans – then her smile dried up and she looked up at him. "Alligators?" she repeated, her croaky voice breaking with the question. "You're kidding me aren't you? Merle? MERLE?" She glared at his retreating back. She looked doubtfully at the shallow water in front of her, curling her top lip. She kicked a rock into the water – it splashed but there was no answering surge from the water. "Bastard," she swore under her breath. But she left the knife in her belt even though it made bending somewhat tricky and the sword propped up in the earth as she started to wash their clothes.

Merle chuckled to himself as he walked away, knowing that she would spook herself out of going into the water even when she would figure out he was just fucking with her. _I thought ya wanted ta git into her pants? c_hastised an inner voice and he sighed – he'd change his way back and reassure her. The Chattahoochee was flowing past him steadily, cleaner than it probably had been for years and he paused for a short time at an overhang, looking into the deep water. There was a hint of a movement and he smiled in satisfaction and started to pay more attention to the edges of the river as he made his way up the bank. He'd seen nothing to worry them after half an hour of walking and he turned to the east and back towards the road that they had come in on. Again he didn't see anything – the military had obviously swept house fairly effectively because he could see the burn marks on the trees and shrubs which had only partially recovered. He walked up through the shrubbery, opening his mouth to give her a smart arse comment about the alligators but then froze.

He had only a fraction of a second to see her sitting there, half naked and bent over her legs before she reacted to Dog's announcing growl, rolling to her feet and picking up the loaded crossbow in one smooth motion. She sighted him down the barrel for moment and then lowered it.

"Fuck's sake Merle!" she exclaimed.

He admired the view, her shirt finished just at the middle of her hips, leaving a triangle of bright pink visible and then the full length of tight and toned legs that went _all_ _the way to the ground._ _Fuck_ he thought "Yar bleeding," he observed.

She looked down at her legs and gave a soft curse, reaching over to rummage through her jeans pockets and pressing a tissue against her lower leg. "You scared the tripe out of me that's why," she complained.

"Wha' tha 'ell are ya doin' woman?" he demanded.

"What are you doing coming back from that direction?" she demanded instead. "I thought you were swinging around – there's nothing wrong?" she added the last bit slight worriedly.

"Na, yar too lucky" he shook his head, still admiring her legs. "Ya gotta stop takin' ya clothes off tha moment me back is turned woman."

"What you reckon I should take them off before you turn your back?" she retorted snappily.

His brows rose at the same time as she blushed – she closed her eyes and waved her hand dismissively. She turned around and sat back down right next to a large clump of bushes which would, he realised, have shielded her from him if he had approached as he had told her. He walked up to her "What are ya doin'?" he asked again.

Marion hesitated, but couldn't see a way to avoid answering. "I was shaving my legs," she replied.

"Wit' me knife?" he said incredulously. "Wha' 'appened to ya razors?"

"Your hairy armed skanks cleaned me out," she replied tartly. "I thought if you do your face and head with it – one handed – that it couldn't be that hard." She lifted the tissue and pulled a face at the cut in her skin. She started as he sat behind her suddenly, one leg stretching out on her right side, his left staying up and his torso shuffled right up against her back.

"Ya got ta be careful wit' tha angle," he instructed. _Are ya fuckin' out of ya mind_ screamed his inner voice but he ignored it and picked up the blade. He wrapped his right arm around her, reaching for her knee and leaned forward so that his left hand reached her ankle – his chest hard against her back and almost folding her in half. "Keep tha skin taught," he continued, dragging the knife up along her shin from her ankle, then dipping the blade in the container of water that she had next to her, then reached further over to repeat the motion on a slightly different part of her leg. He moved the knife so it was in between his forefinger and thumb and ran his other fingers up over the now smooth leg.

Marion's breath caught – she could feel his heartbeat racing and there were shivers racing each other from her leg to accumulate in her belly. _Waiting Marion remember? Waiting? _"Got it," she said, her husky voice having very little to do with the abuse from a couple of days ago.

"Ya need me ta 'elp wit' any ot'er areas?" he whispered in her ear.

She trembled and swallowed. "I'm good," she choked out. "Thanks."

For a moment he stayed there, his hand and stump on her legs, his mouth right next to her ear, his chest pressed her back and his groin hard up against her butt. He felt her stop breathing – his own breath was struggling – and watched the fluttering pulse in her neck. He stood abruptly, holding the knife hilt first back to her – her hand shook just a little as she took it from him.

"I'm goin' ta do a sweep down t'is way," he said. "Be dressed before I git back." _Please._

She nodded, waiting until he had stalked out of sight before collapsing on her back with a groan. _Crap._

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

The deer were grazing contentedly on the neglected lawn around the picnic tables, about fifteen does led by a large stag and with numerous juveniles bouncing around. Merle assessed them carefully, but he knew that Marion was smiling at the sight of them. She'd be looking at their grace, at their beauty and the simpleness of their life – which given the absence of people in this area and the good grass on both sides of the river would probably be pretty easy. He was trying to figure out how many of them could be killed, skinned and packed ready for a long winter and journey.

"That one," he indicated with the minimal amount of movement that he could.

She nodded and carefully moved the crossbow a little so that it lined up with the one she indicated. She sighted along its ridge, gently turning the dial until the picture of the young male came into focus.

"Just behind the front leg," whispered Merle in her ear. "Hit it hard enough and tha bolt'll go straight through ta tha 'eart."

She nodded, feeling Dog at her elbow. "What if I miss?"

"I'll finish 'im off quickly," he replied, his knife already between his teeth. He knew that with her skills she would hit the deer easy enough, but hitting the exact right spot took skill borne of practice, and a suggestion of ice in her veins.

The deer herd suddenly looked up as a burst of wind carried their scent to them and they spun on their heels. The whoosh of the bolt sounded in his ear and he threw himself over the log cursing the vagaries of hunting as he ran to where the body of a young buck was lying on the ground. The second whoosh caught him by surprise and he looked up to see the second carcass still kicking further away. He paused a moment at the first body – it had been a bang on shot, the buck was dead even before it had hit the ground – and hurried over to where the young doe was still struggling slightly, wheezing with the bolt in her lungs and quickly bent and ended her suffering before Marion could get there and see it.

Marion ended up bringing the car over in order to get the carcasses back to where the clothes were fluttering dry. She had tried to lift the doe and had managed to drag it for about a metre before she dropped it, making some comment about having opposable thumbs and leaving him alone. He had carried the buck a couple of hundred metres when she had pulled up next to him and given him a look before driving him to the second carcass. He'd hung them a little way from where Marion started to set up the tent, digging a small but deep hole to bury the offal and other un-needed bits to avoid attracting any predators _whether they were alive or dead._

Marion found the tepee that he'd made in the BB age (before-Babylon as she was calling it in her head) and started up a fire not too far away from where he was skinning the carcasses. "Will that be usable?" she asked as he pulled one skin off.

"Ya'll wear it?" he asked dubiously.

She pulled a face. "I suppose I _could_," she admitted and saw his expression. "I was asking because of Dog. Haven't you felt him shiver?" she added as his brows rose. "He's getting cold at night – he needs a coat or something." She paused a while waiting in vain for Merle's face to show a trace of sympathy. "Unless you want him under the covers with us?"

He snorted derisively muttering something which Marion made out phrases such as 'real dog', 'fuckin' coat', 'snap tha prick if he gets under the covers' and she bit her lip. "Prob'bly could make somet'in' outta it," he admitted finally and she smiled, albeit with some surprise. "Won't be waterproof t'ough and ya goin' ta 'ave ta sew it woman."

She nodded and watched as he spread the skin around a tree – using bits of twine to keep it tight. She could already see his mind working on the best way to cure it and cut it – despite himself. She moved over and sat back while he created his curing solution with various bottles and jars that he had brought from the shop and poured the last of their sanitised water in to make up enough volume. He started passing her strips of meat and she stirred them in the pot before pulling them out and hanging them over the tepee.

She started humming without realising it and it was only when he growled "Ya better stop humming that fuckin' song woman else ya making a specific invitation," that she became aware of it.

She looked up at him with a frown and then her eyes widened as she realised what she had been humming. "Oops," she flushed a little. "Sorry." She was silent for several minutes and then started humming again.

"None o' t'at shit either," he groused, his head now confusingly full of penguins with blanks bra and panties.

"Well what sort of music do you listen to?" she demanded.

"Proper music," he replied. He basically heard her put her hands on her hips, glaring at him. "Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson" he rattled off.

"Well I've heard of Johnny Cash obviously," she mused. "And Willie Nelson – but who are the others?"

"Haggard is a fuckin' legend," he replied. "Grew up in tha depression – went ta jail on and off as a kid and young man, ended up joining the prison band – wrote "Okie From Muskogee", the first policital protest (1) song about the Vietnam War. Went on ta 'ave 'eaps of songs – got a pardon from Reagan. 'is own music died off in tha 80s, but he influenced lots o' tha current crop o' singers, and 'e was on 'is way back b'fore all t'is shit 'appened."

"I have a vague recollection of hearing that Okie song" she frowned. "What else might I recognise?"

"He 'ad some of 'is songs in films in the early two t'ousands," replied Merle after a bit of thought. "'Mama Tried' was in two movies."

She shook her head. "What does it sound like?"

His voice was uncertain as he started, only just above a whisper.

"The first thing I remember knowing,  
Was a lonesome whistle blowing,  
And a young un's dream of growing up to ride;  
On a freight train leaving town,  
Not knowing where I'm bound,  
No-one could change my mind but Mama tried.  
One and only rebel child,  
From a family, meek and mild:  
My Mama seemed to know what lay in store.  
Despite all my Sunday learning,  
Towards the bad, I kept on turning.  
'Til Mama couldn't hold me anymore."

He'd almost forgotten about her by then, remembering Daryl lying on his bed, curled up in a protective ball but still holding on tight to Merle's hand. He continued to croon.

"And I turned twenty-one in prison doing life without parole.  
No-one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried.  
Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading, I denied.  
That leaves only me to blame 'cos Mama tried."

The second verse caught in his throat, like it always had and he repeated the chorus instead. The last note seemed to float in the air for a while and he shook himself, moving his hands back over the beast.

"That was lovely Merle," she said quietly, blinking away tears as best she could without drawing his attention. "Sad – but lovely." _And perhaps a bit ironic _she thought to herself.

"Daryl liked it," he admitted gruffly. "When I was older I was more into Lynryd Skynyrd, AC/DC, and Creedence Clearwater Revival," he said before she could ask him more about it.

She allowed the change of pace with only a slight narrowing of her eyes. "AC/DC I know, although I suspect you have never heard 2Cellos version of Highway to Hell, and I have heard Creedance Clearwater Revival. Have no idea who lyn... whoever the other one was."

He cast her a sideways glance.

"Big wheels keep on turning  
Carry me home to see my kin  
Singing songs about the Southland  
I miss Alabama once again  
And I think it's a sin, yes"

"Well, I heard Mr. Young sing about her  
Well, I heard ol' Neil put her down  
Well, I hope Neil Young will remember  
A Southern man don't need him around anyhow."

"Sweet home Alabama  
Where the skies are so blue  
Sweet home Alabama  
Lord, I'm coming home to you."

It turned out that she did know Lynryd Skynryd, and she joined in with the chorus quite enthusiastically, then approximating the instrumental bits with random noises and movements and letting Merle fill in the verses.

"Yar turn," he groused at her at the end.

"Country hey?" she mused. "Ba ba ba bum," she started.

"Tumble out of bed and I stumble to the kitchen,  
pour myself a cup of ambition,  
yawn and stretch and try to come to life."

"Ya fuckin' wit' me?" he intervened, rolling his eyes. "She had nice tits– prob'bly fake though."

Marion crinkled her nose. "Well she said they weren't," her tone became slightly defensive as he looked at her. "And I tend to think she was telling the truth – I mean what doctor would actually put them on a woman?"

"Ah – Anna Nicole Smith," he snorted and she subsided a little, acknowledging his point.

She started up again.

"On a warm summer's evening  
on a train bound for no-where,  
I met up with a gambler,  
we were both too tired to sleep."

Her voice changed as she stopped singing "I mean – talking of fake – what about poor old Kenny's face."

She thought for a moment.

"If it hadn't been for Cotton-Eye Joe,  
I'ld be married long time ago  
where did ya come from,  
where did ya go,  
where did you come from Cotton-Eyed Joe"

"Sorry that's all I know," the absurd twang she had adopted finishing abruptly as she apologised.

"Sorry?" he repeated incredulously. "What tha fuck ya sorry for, I was about ready to kick ya ass."

"But it's great boot scootin' music – isn't that what you country music people do?" she protested with a grin.

"A bunch of ol'fat women," he grunted, reaching into the inside of the beast and pulling out the offal.

She tipped her head, "well maybe some of them," she thought for another moment. "Well ok, most of them. I don't know how really – I could never get through a whole Nutbush song – I'd be puffed out by about the fifth cycle. You missed out though," she added with a musing tone, staring into the pot and stirring idly. "There'd be 30 000 of them in Tamworth on Country Music weekend – all kitted out in their bling belts, bloody 10 gallon hats and boots that got more polish than spit and never ever had seen a paddock. Of course it pretty much flooded every year."

He dropped a handful of offal near her feet and she twitched her nose, looking at his hole where the rest of the offal had gone. "I am no-where hungry enough to even consider eating that Merle."

He smirked at her, bloody up to his elbows as he delved within the chest cavity. "Ya missing out," he parodied and laughed and she grimaced. "I'm gonna use it for fishin'."

"For bloody alligators?" she demanded, looking at the pile.

"Catfish," he replied. "Found old fishing line tangled up in the rocks – if ya can git me a few yards I'll see if can catch one for breakfast. River is prime place for Blue Catfish, t'ey use smell ta hunt – soap'd work too."

"Oh," she eyed the pile doubtfully. They proceeded in silence for a bit, then a song popped randomly into her head – she glanced at him then and a gleam entered her eyes. She started humming again, a few bars while she stirred the pot and then pulled out a strip.

He paused – _no, she wouldn't_.

She kept on humming, moving her shoulders slightly and he straightened, turning to her. She didn't look at him, although a slight smile teased the edges of her lips as her whole body started.

"Woman," he growled warningly.

"But don't tell my heart,  
my achy breaky heart,  
I just don't think it understands, "

she sang, turned fully to him.

" And if you tell my heart,  
my achy breaky heart  
he might blow up and kill his man,"

the last word was a scream as she ran from him them – retribution written all over his face.

Marion laughed as she ran, Dog barking in excitement next to her – she zigged, he zagged and a large arm caught her around the waist and pulled her to the ground. "No!" she screeched as Merle put his slimy, bloody hands all over her face, neck and arms. "Merle – sorry, sorry ok!" she giggled, looking up at him with a grin and shining eyes.

His laugh dried up, staring down at her face, smeared with blood, her lips slightly open and her eyes sparkling with happiness. He suddenly became aware of her body underneath his.

Dog growled.

His lips attacked hers, almost bruising in their intensity. She met him full on, her mouth opening further and not only inviting him in, but thrusting her own tongue in his mouth to wrangle with his and to taste him. His groan came from somewhere near his toes and he moved slightly, burying his lower body into hers, propping himself up on his right forearm and moving his left up into her shirt. Her fingers wrapped around his shoulders, moving down his back and toying with the top of his rear end before returning upwards again. His hand traced up the smooth skin, over the hard underwire to the lace, running his thumb across the centre – being rewarded by an instant tightening and thrusting of her nipple and a gasp against his lips.

_Mummy? Don't you love Daddy anymore?_

Marion gasped suddenly, what had been raging lust suddenly morphing into horror. She moved her hands off his shoulders and began pushing at his shoulders. She pulled her mouth away from his slightly. 'No Merle, Merle, No," she cried out. "Please No!"

_This ain't happening _he thought as her direction underwent a stunning U-turn. One moment she was almost dragging him into her and now she was pushing and shoving him off her. He pushed his arm underneath her neck, leaning in to kiss her ear as she rolled her head away _just give him a minute, he could convince her _he argued. _Like ya tried last time? _

His desire vanished in an instant and he rolled off her abruptly, slamming his hand into the ground next to him, "FUCK" he yelled.

There was sudden silence except for the almost sobbing breaths of the woman next to, but rolled away, from him. She was shuddering. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she repeated in a small voice over and over.

He sighed and pulled at her neck. She resisted but he pulled again and again until she rolled over, burying her head into his neck. "Hell woman," he murmured, wrapping his arm over her. "Ya goin' ta be tha death of me puttin' tha brakes on like t'at."

"I'm sorry," she said again, sniffing. "I was ... I was... "

"Wha' tha 'ell is goin' t'rough ya 'ead sugar?" he asked roughly.

There was silence and he squeezed her body gently. "About 4 years ago," she said quietly, turning her head so that her nose sat underneath his chin. "Ben and I were having troubles. His work was being a hassle – I was stuck at home with this screaming baby who wouldn't eat or sleep and a toddler that wanted my undivided attention every second of every day and interest rates kept going up and up. We tried not to argue in front of Rachel, but she must have picked up something. I was packing my bag to take the girls up to Mum's for a week and she walked in, watched me putting the clothes in a bag and then she asked 'Mummy? Don't you love Daddy anymore?' She thought I was leaving him." She sniffed. "That's what my head decided to remember just then."

_Fuck_ he thought and gave her a squeeze, bending his head with some effort to kiss her forehead.

"It ain't t'at ya don't love 'im anymore sugar. Ben and tha girls – t'ere always goin' ta 'ave a place in ya 'eart. But t'ey're gone," he continued before his head could take him in a direction he wasn't ready for. "Ya still alive – and t'at ain't not'in' to feel guilty about," he added quickly. "Ya gotta move on."

"I know," she sighed.

He looked at her sideways but apparently agreeing with the philosophy didn't mean she was going to jump him and he sighed. "Come on – we'd betta finish off these beasts then I'll 'eat up some water for ya to 'ave a bath."

"What about you?" she asked, lifting her head to look at him.

"I reckon cold water is a better move for me."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Please forgive any inaccuracies in the process of curing deer meat. I tried to keep it as general as I could – but I daresay I have done something around the wrong way. Same with the catfishing thing – but I did actually look into that.

(1) Wikipedia says it was considered a protest song – it also says that Haggard didn't write it for that purpose

There was an oblique reference, as opposed to a quote, to Gone in 60 Seconds. Did you pick it?

Songs 'sung' (in order); Tom Jones _Kiss_, Mary Poppins '_penguin dance_', Merle Haggard _Mama Tried_, Lynryd Skynyrd _Sweet Home Alabama_, Dolly Parton _Nine to Five_, Kenny Rogers _The Gambler_, Rednex _Cotton Eye Joe_, Billy Ray Cyrus _Achy Breaky Heart_


	52. Chapter 52

As I said earlier – we are on a map but I am taking liberties with everything else. Please forgive the inaccuracies.

Monster chapter – word count wise anyway – I had to get to a certain point to get ready for the next chapter (you'll understand when you get there and trust me – you _want _to get there based on the reviews lately) and I couldn't see a natural point to split up the chapter which wasn't a gratuitous cliff-hanger (and I _did_ consider it!). If you have something pressing waiting for your attention within the next 15-30minutes, then come back here later.

Again more emotional/romantic movement rather than physical movement. I don't think that will upset too many of you.

Chapter 52

"Baaarrrp."

"Hoo?" Merle turned to her.

Marion blushed. "Excuse me," she gave him a sheepish grin. "It was the catfish."

"Yep," Merle gave a satisfied smirk and turned back to the road. "It'll do t'at ta ya ev'ry time."

The haunch of venison that they'd had the night before had been tender with just a hint of the spices that he'd rubbed through it. The catfish, while she'd eyed it with distrust just after dawn that morning when he'd returned triumphant, had also come up delicious – loaded with some oil in lieu of butter and a whole heap of spices before being covered in foil for cooking in the fire embers. She had regretted the fact that it was winter when he'd described the peach sauce that he used to make when he was younger.

_The man could cook _she decided, maybe not the 3 course dinner type of cooking but 'bush' cooking. Give the man a vegetable peeler and he was somewhat lost. She wondered whether Daryl had ever seen a vegetable that didn't come out of a can.

The run around the exterior of the airfield, with the _battalion_ of geeks in military clothing shaking the fence to try and get access to them as they threaded their way through the craters and abandoned cars had been tense. Their way had been blocked on the other side of the Chattahoochee by a glitch – Marion had sat on the edge of the window and used the rifle to take down as many as she could before the geeks coming from behind caught up to them, she'd barely had her seatbelt on again before Merle was almost airborne over the top of the remainder.

They weren't in the clear after that either, the 280 sign that they were following ('ead to Birmingham had said Merle) took them on what Marion called a dual highway and what Merle called a US Route. After they crossed the Chattahoochee it seemed to skirt the main areas of the city but there were cars everywhere, and cars meant geeks. Merle had driven around them where he could – they'd used the guns where they needed to (there didn't seem to be much point trying to stay quiet when there were thirty of them advancing on the car) and Merle had slammed the truck into 4wd and driven on the grass between the lanes, Marion feeling like they were going to lose the side mirror on the ground as he tracked the stormwater channel for a while, before hitting the kerb and jumping back onto the road.

"Opelika," Marion pronounced awkwardly, reading from the sign. "How big is that?"

"Big enough," he said grimly. _They needed a map_ he decided because he wasn't following the route through there or the adjacent Auburn, one because they were probably over-run like most of the other big cities and two they had likely suffered some fairly extensive damage if the military action in Atlanta and around Fort Benning/Columbus was any indication – the roads may be impassable. He pulled into the next gas station and for several minutes they sat there with the car running, waiting, and then Dog jumped out and started sniffing at the tyres of an abandoned car. Marion turned to Merle and nodded, he returned the gesture and turned off the car.

Marion held her crossbow tight in her arms, the sword grasped awkwardly in one hand in case she needed it for close work. Merle frowned as he looked – she was off balance with it all, he needed to find her something for the sword.

As if realising what he was thinking she looked up. "I don't have many bolts – no chance here I suppose?"

He shook his head. "Nah – but we should be able ta get a 'alf decent map and some supplies 'ere – if it ain't been looted."

She nodded and turned back to the car to grab out her bag, looking once at him before emptying its contents onto the floor before throwing it over her shoulder. He set himself at the edge of the door, she reached forward and yanked it open. There was a jingling sound, loud in the silence, and Dog trotted in. Merle followed a couple of steps behind and then Marion came in as well, holding the door ajar (and away from the bell) for several moments.

The place had been looted, in a hurry based on the products strewn across the floor. The room consisted of a desk for payment of the gas, a small convenience store section and what looked like it had been a small restaurant.

Marion sniffed and winced.

"Peaches," muttered Merle in explanation. "T'ey musta 'ad early season peaches in stock when tha shit went down – t'ey've fermented." He got sick of waiting to see if anything _or anyone_ was going to jump out at them. "Hey!" he yelled.

Marion jumped, her foot slipped away from the door and it slammed shut. "Merle," she snapped at him.

He shrugged. "Ain't no-one or not'in' 'ere," he said and put his gun in the back of his pants. He walked around the back of counter, propped and grimaced, and then took a large step into the area behind. It took him a couple of seconds and he grabbed out a map, breaking the seal and spread it out on the counter. Marion placed the bow on one end of it and leant forward. He looked up briefly, saw down to her navel and looked back down at the map hurriedly. "We're 'ere," he said after a while. Marion turned her head onto the side to better read as he traced up the bright red line "We'll keep foll'win' the 280 'til we 'it 'ere," he put his finger on an intersection with a smaller road and traced it, "t'en we'll skirt Opelika and Auburn, stick wit' tha country roads until we get ta Birmingham, t'en we'll git onto the78 and 'ead," he turned and scanned the racks again, unwrapping another map. He eyed it for several seconds and then turned and grabbed a third "t'wards Memphis, t'en," he turned around and grabbed yet another map. He took more time to study this one, flicking back to the previous one, "we'll take t'ese smaller roads to," he turned again – Marion eyed the growing pile of maps and took her lip firmly between her teeth. "Springfield," he started again, "up the 65 to Kansas City," that was another map and Marion snorted despite herself. He was too engrossed to notice though and pulled down one last map, "t'en we'll eit'er t'read t'rough 'ere to to Seward or," he had to flick back a couple of maps "track up along tha border and come in t'at way."

He looked up, seeing the dancing light in Marion's eyes and frowned. "Wha'?"

"Nothing," she smiled. "Sounds like a plan," _if I can keep the maps in order_ she though involuntarily. To that end she moved her bow and started rearranging the maps so that she could fold them _don't fold the maps_ came the involuntary memory but she ignored it and folded them so they displayed only the part of the state that they would be interested in.

Merle had watched her for a few moments with a confused frown but then figured he'd leave her to it and looked underneath the counter. There was nothing of interest there, although he looked at the shotgun for a moment. He stood and yawned.

"Why don't you let me drive?" she suggested, still folding maps and putting them in order.

"I'm fine," he snapped and ignored her eye roll. He had spent some time after their dinner preparing the deer hide as well as he could without any lime, lye or tannins. He'd salted the hide and then rubbed at it continuously to remove the remnants of flesh and fat, then stretched it over the tree in the other direction. Then she'd come out wondering what he was doing and he'd left it overnight near the fire. He had been up before dawn to sit at his nominated spot for catfishing, the bit of deer heart cut up and attached to the hook and line he had managed to scrounge and that Marion had put together for him. The fish had almost thrown itself on the hook and except for Dog's growl he would have woken Marion with a slippery and whiskered kiss from the monster he'd brought back. He'd delayed their departure for a bit longer in the morning while he had worked at the hide again. "Whatdya want ta get?"

Marion turned with a speculating gaze on the racks of things behind them and instead of answering, pushed the maps into her bag and with the crossbow slung over her other shoulder and the sword held loosely walked to the shelves. Merle grimaced again as he stepped over the decaying leg and came up behind her.

"Ya kiddin'," he exploded. "Ya got a box full of t'em t'ings."

She turned to him with the hoighty toighty look on her face. "Merle Dixon – out of all the things that we have to do without now or find a substitute for – are these products one of those?"

_Fair enough_ he decided, _when she put it like that_ and turned away. A shelf caught his attention and he cast a glance over his shoulder – she was absorbed, so he leant forward and grabbed a box and hid it in his jacket. After yesterday afternoon he finally could see a chance of using them and the way he was feeling, a box would only last him a couple of nights.

In the end they only found a little bit of additional food. They'd barely gone 50miles since the last time they had filled up and so they decided that it wasn't worth the effort to try and break into the tanks to get more fuel. Marion held out her hand expectantly for the keys – Merle smirked and ignored it. Marion cursed under her breath but went around to _her _side of the car and hopped in.

The driving was then relatively easy, Merle didn't put his foot down though, content to sit about 50 miles per hour in the areas where there was clear road and slowing even further when there were random cars scattered across the road. The odd random geek walked out in anticipation of a meal and though they were easy targets for the truck Merle avoided them, the experience getting out of the garage and then earlier this morning was enough to convince him of the dangers of hitting them.

"There is a gun shop in Sylacauga (1)," Marion mused as she examined a book and he realised that she had pinched the phone directory from the public phone in the corner of the shop.

"How far in?" he asked.

"Does it matter?" she looked up.

She was right _of course_. They were looking to drive almost a thousand miles, they might be planning to skirt the larger cities but the best laid plans had a way of going to shit, especially now. She was low on bolts, he was running low on ammunition for the rifle and the silenced gun – the three most important weapons in their arsenal. "Figure out a couple ways ta git t'ere," he said instead and she nodded, drawing her feet up against the dash and looking at the map within the directory.

Merle pulled the car to a stop late in the afternoon – what should have taken them only a couple of hours had taken them the majority of the day. Sylacauga could be seen on the horizon but they were still surrounded by farmland – orchards. _Besides – he was tired. _"Stay here the night?" he suggested. "We'll attack tha town in tha mornin'?"

Marion's eyes narrowed a little, but nodded in silent acceptance and let Dog out, following and stretching her length. Merle swallowed and pocketed the keys – he'd driven off the road a little so as not to be in full view of the road but he wasn't taking any chances with the car being stolen. Marion came over to watch what he removed from the engine and where he hid it and then turned around to look at the orchard.

"Peaches again?" she asked, looking at the bare branches.

"Most likely," he agreed. "Georgia's got betta ones t'ough."

She grinned at that and turned to the back of the car to get out the tent. It was something that they had fallen into an easy routine with, even in the period between the Roadhouse and the Army, and it wasn't long before the tent was up with the blankets laid out, the fire crackling underneath a batch of water.

"I'm goin' ta do a scout 'bout," he said and she nodded absently, already trying to figure out what they were going to have for dinner. It wasn't so much a matter of having too much choice, although there was still a large amount of venison that had been smoked, as a matter of making sure that they used things before they spoiled. The majority of their food was in cans or plastic packets, but despite their efforts the flour now moved of its own accord ('just extra protein' said Merle), their sugar was clumpy and the last remaining root vegetables that she'd managed to scrounge along the way were starting to go soft in spots. She eyed the final combination with some trepidation but shrugged – it was food.

It was still early and after setting up everything she picked up the bow and sword and whistled Dog who had moved off exploring. She wandered down the row of trees, planning to go just over the rise to see what there was about without getting too far away from the camp knowing Merle would worry if he returned and couldn't see her. The slight ridge line offered a westerly view of farmland and what looked to be a very large river, she made a mental note to check it out on the map, and closer to them another significant road. There was a large pile of cars – stretching several kilometres over both lanes of the road and she wondered what could have caused such a massive crash. She sighted in through the crossbow but there wasn't enough magnification to make anything clear enough and she moved it to look a bit closer to the peach farm, noting a large complex just at the base of the hill. She looked at it for a while, noting the yards, the loading races, the large paddocks that funnelled towards one gate.

_Feed lot_ she thought _or saleyards_ she considered. It was empty, well of live stock – there were some carcasses, shrunken things that had collapsed in on themselves as the decay had progressed. She grimaced and lowered the bow.

Dog growled and she turned suddenly, lifting the bow back to her shoulder.

The pig eyed her, his long and wet nose twitching as he tried to determine what it was his eyes only saw as a hazy outline.

"Well hello Porky," she said brightly and lowered her bow. Not that the thing looked anything like Porky Pig, this thing was black and hairy, it stood easily up to her knees and there were two small, but very pointed, tusks either side of its mouth. It was puffing, as if it has just been running. "Finishing off those peaches are you?" she added, her nostrils twitching at the somewhat diluted but very distinctive odour of fermenting fruit mixed with what was very pungent pig. "You be careful – no drinking and driving!" She turned, planning to duck under a row of trees and make her way back to the camp and leave the pig to its own devices.

Then the wind changed.

The odour of Dog hit the pig's nostrils and the memory of biting, barking and the pain of losing half its ear assaulted its senses, at a time when it was already stressed. It remembered how it had gotten rid of the dog that time and it charged.

Marion heard the noise of the grass moving and turned to see the pig barrelling towards her. She gave a very undignified screech and jumped out of the way, Dog yelping as he scampered out of the path of the rampaging boar. The boar propped and turned, charging again and Marion feinted one direction and then headed the other direction. The boar couldn't stop its momentum and crashed through the lower branches of the row of trees. Marion kept going, bending over to get under the other row of trees knowing that in a flat race that she wouldn't be able to outrun it. She'd turned and had the crossbow up to her shoulder, the sword dangling from her hand, when it charged through again. She let the bolt go and the pig squealed, but didn't slow down beyond the half a pace the bolt threw it off balance. _Great, now you've pissed it off _thought Marion even as she jumped out of the way, wincing as she was caught with a glancing blow to the calf, which never the less was sharply painful, landing on the ground and rolling back to her feet – albeit without her sword.

_Pride be damned _she thought. "Merle," she screamed as loud as she could.

Then the boar was running at her again and she changed her grip on the bow and swung – there was a solid 'thwack' and something that sounded suspiciously like a crack but while the boar wobbled a bit off balance, she didn't make any other impact. Dog snarled and threw himself at the pig, latching his little sharp teeth around the thing's ear. The pig lifted its head and Dog was in the air, the pig shook his head and squealed in rage as Dog's teeth tore through the flesh as he was flung away. Dog thudded against the ground but lifted himself up quickly, shaking his head and then scooting away as the pig charged. The pig stopped and turned – Marion had made good while it had been occupied with Dog and had moved under another couple of rows and trees and was sprinting away down the avenue. The pig squealed in rage, its shoulder on fire from where her bolt had struck and it charged. Marion heard the thunder of hooves and threw herself to the side – the pig whooshed past her and spun around. It snuffed loudly and lowered its head, then started to walk towards her – something which struck more fear in her than any charge.

_Crap_ she thought and dropped the unloaded bow, picking up the sword and balancing herself ready to strike at it. There was a sudden rustle through the trees and a body literally threw himself onto the pig, crashing its back legs to the ground under its powerful form, its arms enclosing the chest.

Marion smiled in relief "Merle," she gasped and took half a step forward to help him dispatch the pig. Her steps faltered though as she took in the fuller head of hair, the longer and slightly leaner form, the different colour shirt. Then the form looked up, its mouth wide open, its eyes glazed over and attempted a large bite from the pig's neck.

Marion looked in horror as the pig struggled to get away from its captor, a large and very healthy looking (comparatively speaking) geek. The pig turned and raked up the ribs of the geek – there was an immediate welling of blood in the geek's shirt but it didn't let the pig go. Instead it leaned in again and attached its mouth to the side of the pig's neck, heedless of the damage the pig was doing to its own neck and tore a chunk of flesh away. The pig squealed again, possibly more from rage than from pain, and put its massive strength into freeing itself from the geek. There was a crack as something within the geek broke but it kept on attacking the pig with its mouth even as its flesh was torn away by the tusks and hooves.

Marion grimaced at the sight of the two of them locked in deadly battle and backed up a step, reaching over her shoulder to her quiver, planning to take the pig first and then the geek. Her hand closed around a bolt and she pulled it up, swearing as she saw it was only half a bolt – all her acrobatics on the ground had snapped it in two. She threw it to the ground and reached for another.

Dog growled and she turned. "Oh fuck," she swallowed and ran, ducking under the row of trees and then running down the avenue of trees, Dog barking next to her.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle heard the squeal and paused. _Wild boar would be alright_ he thought, thinking of how he could dummy up a spit. _He could use the tusks in a collar for Dog too – make him look like a real dog_. But he shook himself – hog hunting was not a sport for the single man, even more so for a single handed man. If Dog had been a proper size dog he may have thought about it, but hog were just too ornery and sneaky to risk it.

He continued on the perimeter search, heading west – he wanted to walk that ridgeline and make sure that nothing was hiding over the other side of it. Then he heard his name screamed through the orchard and his blood froze. She had never _ever _yelled for him like that.

Merle raced up the slight hill as quick as he could go, he could just hear the hog's squeals over the sound of his laboured breathing _fuck but he needed to get back into shape_ as he followed Marion's trail. He saw where she'd stopped, where the hog had come upon her and ducked under the branches where she'd gone with the hog following her. He went across another row and then another and was heading towards the next one when something on the ground caught his eye. He stepped over to it and frowned, then went back to the other path, then up ahead where he could still hear the hog squealing but he could also hear other noises.

"Woman," he growled and turned _away from the camp_ and followed her trail down the hill.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Marion let another bolt go and the geek dropped down in a heap in front of her and she reached back into her quiver to get another one. It took her three goes and she realised that she was now desperately short of bolts, but she strung one up anyway. Most of the geeks that had come up from the side had ignored the dying pig and the dead but still eating geek and made straight for her and Dog. She'd put some distance between them and the geeks and then reloaded the crossbow and took out the nearest one but the others just kept on coming like they always did. She turned and jogged off again, ducking under another set of branches _she had to be close to the camp by now. _She knew that Merle would probably be back by then, it wouldn't take much to finish off these stragglers _hell _she would be able to do it herself, but her leg was starting to hurt and the difficulties in running with a crossbow and sword were starting to make themselves apparent.

She almost crashed into a tree and she recoiled, looking up and up – it wasn't a peach tree. She looked behind her – peach trees – but in front of her and to both sides was forest trees, large trunks with branches almost as large flinging out wide. "Oh crap," she muttered and glared at Dog. "You could have told me I was going the wrong way!"

Dog whined, and she pulled a face _ok that might have been unjustified _– he _had_ barked at her but she had thought he was barking at the geeks. She considered _forward was no good, backwards was also no good _ and tried to remember where the sun had been when she left the camp. She turned right, starting to jog along the annoyingly now flat ground.

Dog growled and she propped – not quick enough and a set of arms came out and grabbed her.

"Woman!" Merle growled in her ear and she almost sagged with relief. "The trees run in fuckin' rows – ya only had two directions to choose from!"

"I got turned about because of the pig," she exclaimed, pulling herself away – he gave her a look and she raised herself up indignantly. "Give me a break – moss grows on the south side of the tree at home!"

Merle glared at her, but a smile twitched the side of his mouth.

There was a sound of groaning and Merle grabbed her arm out of reflex, turning towards the noise.

Dog growled and Marion turned behind her.

"Where tha fuck did t'ey all come from?" spat Merle, pushing her deeper into the forest.

"The other road," she gasped. "There's a big accident there – I think they were following the pig."

_Just their fuckin' luck_ Merle thought. It was already starting to get a little dark, in the forest it was even darker. He had maybe twenty bullets, but most of them were in the rifle which he was hesitant to use them when they were so far away from the car with at least ten geeks almost immediately behind them _and fuck knows how many more around_. Despite her workouts Marion was also almost spent, she was limping a bit but he couldn't see why. Fighting wasn't an option, nor was running, so hiding was required. He started looking up.

"'ere," he caught her elbow and pulled her to a halt.

She drew in some deep breaths and looked at him, then up – at the tree. It was solid tree, she had no idea what type, but its lowest branches were easily two and a half metres off the ground – far beyond what the geeks could jump. More branches spanned out from the massive trunk, some of them almost a metre in diameter at that point. She nodded.

"Git up woman," he ordered.

Marion smiled "_Now _you decide to be gallant Merle?" she shook her head slightly. "_You_ go up first."

_She was arguing women's lib with him? _ He stared at her incredulously. "Git tha fuck up tha tree woman," he said more forcefully, holding his hand down to give her a boost.

"And how exactly are you going to get up there?" she demanded tartly.

Dog barked and she whirled, the sword almost singing as it sliced through the air and straight into the skull of the geek, which collapsed to the ground. She turned back to him as if nothing had happened. "_I _can't pull _you_ up Merle."

_Fuckin' calculated intelligence _he cursed inwardly. He nodded once and she put the sword down and bent slightly, holding her hands out as a stirrup. He put his foot in there lightly and tried to use as much of his other foot as he could to launch himself up into the air. She stumbled despite his efforts but her knees were braced and she forced her hands up, pushing at his foot as he caught his arm around the branch and took some of his weight off her and then pushing his legs higher so that he could pull his own weight up and over the top of the branch.

Her hands dropped off his foot and he spun, seeing her swinging the sword again at another geek who'd managed to get ahead of the group. He lay along the branch, using his stump for leverage and hung the other one down. "Come on," he urged her. She tossed the sword up to him hilt first and he thrust it into the trunk of the tree and then looked down to see her stuff Dog down her shirt and jump up to catch at his hand. Their fingers caught and then slipped, she hit the ground and staggered. "Come on woman!" he yelled at her, watching as the glitch sighted them and started to run, well shamble quicker anyway. _If she missed this time he was coming down again_. She took a running jump and his hand closed over her wrist, he pulled and she reached her other hand out, grabbing hold of the branch long enough that he could move his hand to under her arm and drag her higher.

The geeks howled and she swung her legs up parallel to the ground even as Merle dragged her up and over the branch, keeping hold of her until she got a leg either side of the branch, her face a couple of centimetres away from his.

Dog poked his head out and licked Merle's nose in thanks, he grimaced and pulled away even as Marion laughed, manoeuvring herself so that she could sit upright on the branch with her back against the tree.

"How many bolts ya got?" Merle asked from the other end of the branch, looking down at the yowling, moaning glitch below them, reaching up with bloodied fingers.

"Three," she answered after a short pause.

Merle had about four bullets left in the silenced gun in his pocket – the rifle sat at the base of the tree – plus he had his throwing knives. They could thin out the crowd from the safety of the tree enough for close quarter work. But not now. "It's too dark to have a go at 'em now," he concluded and Marion reluctantly agreed. It would be like shooting fish in a barrel, but the problem was only a head shot would work and they just didn't have enough ammunition to play with.

"Guess we're here for the night then," she said, looking around.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"Merle," her voice came softly through the night.

"Yeah?" he growled back.

"I'm cold."

_Of course she was. _In truth he was a bit too. He frowned for a bit, mentally assessing the tree's capabilities – the branch he was on, the branch she was on. "Come ova 'ere t'en," he said gruffly.

There was a slight rustle as she stood, reaching around the trunk of the tree and bestowing a pat on Dog as she shimmied past the hammock Merle had made for him with his overshirt and the sword until she was on the branch with Merle. She bent down, wincing slightly as the tear in her leg pulled. There hadn't been much they could do for it, Merle had cut the sleeves off his overshirt and tied them around in a pretty basic bandage and at least the bleeding had stopped. The cold had stopped it throbbing.

She used her hands to guide herself up along his length, finding his legs and moving up either side of his torso until she lay directly over the top of him. She was shivering and he put his hand between them to pull apart his vest, she snuggled in with a sigh, burying her face into his neck and her hands in his armpits. He wrapped the vest around her back, holding it closed with his stump and rubbing her back with his hand.

"I'll get off in a couple of minutes" she breathed. "I'm not too heavy?" Her weight was evenly distributed over him; while he wouldn't be able to say that he didn't know she was there, he certainly was having no difficulty having her there. He shook his head. _Well not that sort of difficulty._

The moans of the dead beneath them, intensified at the sound of her movement, subsided after a few minutes and the warmth between them grew. He looked up at the tree branches above them, a couple of pinpricks of the stars visible through the foliage, gritting his teeth. The warmth grew further, he could feel her soft curves moulding to his tight muscles, feel her breath tickling at his throat, her lips almost pressed against his skin. _Fuck_, he thought.

"Merle," she groaned in his ear in exasperation.

"Hell Marion," he snapped back. "I'm tryin' ok – but I'm a man – and it's been a long time."

She pushed up, the cold air hitting his chest like a slap, and he let his hand go from her waist. He sighed, getting ready to somehow make room on his branch. But she didn't move from him, holding her position just above him. Dimly he could make out her features, her eyes studying him.

"You are," she whispered, "and it has been." Her face moved down again – but this time her lips were on his. For a moment they just pressed against his, then they pulled back.

"Wha'?" he blinked. Her face came back down and this time she took his bottom lip in between hers and pulled softly. She let it go and lowered, her lips moving to his top lip.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) There isn't as far as I can tell from my view over here.

WARNING – I'm rating the next chapter M. A real M for the whole chapter. If you're too young or just not into M, come back to the T rated chapter 54, there won't be any gaps plot wise. For all you old ladies like me – feel free to enjoy!


	53. Chapter 53

WARNING – this is one of _those_ chapters and is rated M for a reason. If you are under 16, and I know there are some of you out there because you put your AGE in your profile (as well as your name, address, mother's maiden name...) then you should be skipping to Chapter 54, which will be back to T rated. You won't miss anything plot wise. If you do read it then:

Do NOT tell me about it – I'm a prude at heart and you'll make me blush.

Do NOT tell me that girls your age are already doing this as I have two daughters and them being locked up in a basement until they are 21 will be on your conscience

Do NOT tell your mother/father/older brother or generally anyone in a position of responsibility that I was the source of any new found knowledge. Older sisters and BFFs do not fall within this restriction – but refer to first two points for them!

For those old enough to not even think twice about still reading – it's short but hopefully intense. I have had this written like FOREVER and I know that you've been waiting FOREVER, but we had to get to a point where it would work. And from you – I expect full disclosure about what you thought about the chapter!

Chapter 53

Like a bubble bursting the spell around Merle collapsed. His left hand moved up to the back of her head, his stump sliding down to sit across her ass and he met her halfway, his mouth encompassing hers and his tongue demanding entrance. She met him eagerly, her legs sliding from between his to either side so that she basically straddled him. The shock was electric and he grunted in surprise, pushing up at her, connecting through the layers of material in between them and eliciting a moan from her throat. He pushed up, twisting to put her beneath him – she squealed slightly and he pulled her hard to him with his right arm, his left releasing her to grab desperately at the branch.

Dog growled as the moans from the base of the tree intensified, a couple reaching up to where the two pairs of feet dangled just out of reach. Merle recovered their balance and lay back down again, locking his ankles in hard against the trunk of the tree and placing his arms either side of the branch below him.

Marion giggled, still breathing hard. Her nerve endings were alight, every sensation heightened.

"Maybe we need ta wait 'til daylight sugar," he murmured. "Find somewhere a bit more stable."

"Maybe," she nodded, letting her eyes wander from his elbows, over his bulging arms and across his chest – the tight t-shirt moulding to the muscles and the slight nubs of his male nipples. The warmth bubbling in her lower belly started to spread and she took a breath. "Maybe not," she murmured and lowered her head.

Her mouth moved gently over his, drawing back as he lifted to meet her, he growled and her lips curved up in a smile and came back to him. Her tongue tipped in gently to meet his and this time he let her lead, teasing around his mouth as she tasted every portion of his mouth. He moved his tongue forward and was rewarded by it being grasped and sucked firmly. Her mouth moved away, trailing across his face and neck to his ear. She breathed into it softly and grabbed the lobe of his ear between her teeth, tugging at it softly. Her hands wandered up along his side, over his upper arm and forearm until she reached his hand, plastering her breasts hard against his chest. She briefly entwined her fingers with his, before moving back along the same pathway. Her mouth moved down from his ear, nudging his head so that he exposed his neck to her mouth and teeth, she nibbled a way to the top of his shirt and then moved even lower.

Merle hissed as her teeth grabbed at one nipple gently, then moved across his chest to the other, placing gentle kisses in between. Her hands moved down along his side and he froze, but he breathed again as they found the edge of his shirt and slipped up, bringing the material with them. She bent again and this time he could feel the warmth of her mouth as she traced kisses over the top of his chest, devoting a bit more time to the nipples which were erect more with his desire than the cold. In fact he could hardly feel the air temperature, the warmth spreading from where her hips were pressed tight against him and sparking every time her mouth touched his skin.

"Ya tease," he moaned, his noise starting up a chorus below them., as she continued to move her mouth and hands over his torso, finding some of the larger and more prominent scars – caressing and kissing them as if that would make the pain go away.

"Who said I was teasing?" she queried with an impish grin. She ducked her head again, her teeth gently nipping at his nipples. He swallowed and her hands moved down, finding the belt and unslipping it as her mouth moved over his abdomen. The zipper was her next target and the moan that came from his mouth as her hand gently slid into the resulting gap vibrated through the air. She smiled and pulled her hand out – she lifted first one leg and then a second from over him, kneeling on the branch between his legs. He sighed but then caught his breath as her thumbs hooked into both sides of his jeans. He lifted up slightly, and she briskly dragged them down to his knees – where the spread of his legs made it impossible for her to get them any further.

"Wha' are ya…" he didn't get to finish his question as her hands found him direct, hard and pulsing. His eyes closed and his arms clenched around the branch as her hand moved, pulling the skin down until his tip was tight and exposed. He hissed as her thumb gently grazed it, turning a small circle over the top. He looked at her, all he could see was the top of her head as she trailed kisses along his bottom abdomen heading ... heading …. She looked up at him and smiled and then slowly she lowered her mouth over the top of his shaft.

He bucked, "fuckin' 'ell woman," he exclaimed. Below them the moans and groans grew louder, but they didn't penetrate past the blood roaring in his ears.

She played with the head of his shaft, sucking, licking, using her tongue across the tip with a delicate vibration. Then she moved down, down – taking his entire length within her before withdrawing, using her lips to create the friction before going back down again. He felt the pressure building up in him, he was almost panting now, he wanted to bury himself in her, again and again. He reached down with his left hand and grabbed at her shoulder "Git the fuck up…" his movement unbalanced them again and he grabbed at the branch, his ankles aching as they dug into the tree and his knees squeezing her between them.

Marion sat up, letting her death grip on his knees relax and placing her hands on her hips – the moans and groans beneath them continuing. "Damn it Merle Dixon," she said with some exasperation, "for once in your miserable redneck hillbilly life would you fucking well let a woman drive!" She didn't wait for his answer, but lowered her head again. _Can she get any hotter _he wondered, even her swearing turning him on.

Marion moved her mouth over his shaft, twisting her tongue around him, tasting the sweetness through the slit in the top of him. He was rock hard, and yet so incredibly soft in her mouth. The fire was raging in her belly now, she was almost whimpering around him as her blood pulsed with want. She traced one hand down his leg, testing how much room there was on its other side and carefully lifted one leg over his. She sat down and immediately he responded, knowing what she wanted, pushing up with his thigh and grinding against her centre. The pulse that shot through her was electric and her mouth opened around him, the moan that came out louder than anything below them.

_She can_ he realised as her heard her moan, feeling her warmth through her pants on his leg _Fuck she's wet_ he realised and he tipped his head back as she continued to ride him, seeking her own pleasure as she worked her mouth up and over him. _I cannot get any higher than this_ he thought – then her hand moved down his leg and turning back, skimming up over his jeans, along the soft, smooth skin of his upper thigh and down.

"Sweet Jesus H Christ," he yelled as her fingernail scraped up from underneath his scrotum.

The groans below them exploded from underneath them – Dog growled a warning and her lips curved around him. She moved, again, repeating her fingers and he twitched, the fire ignited beyond any pretence of control. He reached down again, but this time he only gently touched her shoulder. "Marion," he said breathlessly. "Ya done me in girl."

She lifted her head, and for a moment he regretted the loss of her warmth around him, then her hand moved on top of him, pushing him towards the brink into the palm of her hand, the calluses from her bow work driving him closer to insanity. His eyes closed and he surrendered to her ministrations.

Marion watched him surrender to her – his eyes closed, his head back, his mouth open as he gasped for air, his arms clenching not just with the effort of keeping them on the branch, his stomach and chest bare to her. _Why the fuck not?_ she thought.

His eyes snapped open suddenly as he felt her mouth close over her again "woman," he gasped, but it was too late. She had pushed him over the edge and he exploded inside her with a groan.

Marion felt his seed hit the back of her throat and swallowed without a second thought. She gentled up her pressure as he pulsed within her, his whole body rocking with his release, almost tenderly licking the top of him as she finally straightened. She reached down and pulled his jeans up and over him, then slowly walked herself forward, planting a couple of random kisses on the journey, balancing herself on one hand as she pulled his shirt back down. She lowered herself carefully, his right arm wrapped around her shoulders and back, her chest pressed into his right side. She reached over and pulled his vest together.

"Who tha fuck are ya and wha' 'ave ya done with my Marion?" he demanded, twisting his neck to let him look down at her. He was still breathing hard, his eyes slightly dilated.

She tipped her head up and grinned at him, her eyes dancing. "There's a lot about me that you don't know Merle."

"Well ya just lie back a bit more girly and I'll get ta know ya real good," he urged, voice thick with desire, ready to extract his arm from underneath her.

She shook her head, settling her cheek on his chest, and didn't move. "I'm not ready for that Merle," she murmured, slightly breathless _my Marion?_

"Not ready for that?" he repeated incredulously. "After what you just did?"

"It's more personal Merle."

"More personal than sticking my cock in your mouth and fucking' blowin' my mind?" he exclaimed. She nodded, still without looking up at him. He leant down and kissed the top of her head. "Ya a certified crazy wench, ya know that?"

Marion smiled, pleasantly buzzing despite not reaching the pinnacle. She knew that he would never understand how she could do that for him but have serious issues about him touching her. It was about control she decided – she could have stopped anytime that she wished tonight, he wouldn't have been happy about it, but it wouldn't have been like he would have forced her into anything. Whereas when, _If Marion, if!,_ she decided to let Merle take control she figured that would be no stopping him – similar to how an avalanche once started had to reach its natural conclusion. He just wasn't the southern country gentlemen type. Another thought struck her and she giggled.

Merle felt her chest moving against him and he turned to her "Wha?" She shook her head and he squeezed his arm around her. "Wha?" he said more insistently.

She looked up, her eyes alight with laughter and her lips twitching. "You blasphemed!"

Marion lost it as he stared at her in absolute stunned silence, it broke him and he put his head back and laughed. The geeks at the base of the tree howled and Dog growled.

Somewhat later Merle listened to the night, hearing her breath slow until it settled into the deep, rhythmic melody in concert with the slightly faster but softer breath of Dog's that he was used to. The moans of the geeks below them had also subsided after the climax of noise and except for the odour, diluted by the freshness of the forest but still apparent, he would hardly know that they were there. He still couldn't believe what she had done to _for _him – one that she had actually done it and secondly how she had done it. He looked at her face, her head had dropped back a little into his arm and he had a clear view of her sleeping face – relaxed into something approaching peace. Something that she never had on her waking face. _My Marion_ he remembered his words, he had no idea where that had come from _hell, she's just a broad that I picked _he growled inwardly, ignoring the false note and hoping that she had missed the words.

He didn't let himself sleep fully - he was secure on his back on the branch, but Marion had fallen asleep next to him and while she had anchored herself with a hold on his waist, her grip had relaxed while she slept and it was his arm around her back and his leg over the top of hers as she leaned into him that was keeping her on the branch. He dozed lightly, waking himself up anytime his grasp started to slacken off, listening to her breathe.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

All together now – "Ahhhhhh". So did that work?

Housekeeping because I am a mother and I worry about my little girls who may have read this – please remember that Merle already told Marion that he was clean (in 'Simon's' supermarket), otherwise Marion as a responsible female would not have engaged in such risky behaviour. A STD in the ZA would really be unfortunate.


	54. Chapter 54

Chapter 54

"You got everything?" she asked, taking the couple of steps to press her body against his back, threading her arms underneath his and curling over his chest. He leaned back a little bit into her, curling his own hands around the back of her to grasp her butt. "Undies, socks, shirts, shorts, jeans, clothes to go out in," he was nodding at each thing she said. "Deodorant, tooth brush, toothpaste, soap, shampoo, conditioner, cotton buds in case Rachel gets water in her ear...?"

He stiffened slightly and she smiled, turning away from him and heading to the bathroom to get the supplementary supplies. She walked back up the hallway and stopped in Rachel's room. "You got everything smidge?" Even though her daughter was already pushing at being taller than her, the pet name that had rolled off her tongue when she first held her as a baby had stuck.

Rachel nodded vigorously and Marion went through her list again. Jenny came wandering out of her room, dragging her own suitcase – she also nodded when asked if she had everything, but Marion knew from experience and opened the suitcase. "Hmm – five shirts and two pairs of shorts – what about the rest of the days?"

Jenny put her hand over her mouth in an impish 'oops' and ran off to get some more clothes for her bottom half. Marion questioned Rachel a bit more – she was too old to accept 'mother' dictating what she should wear so Marion didn't even try. _Ben could deal with that_ she shrugged, noting the long sleeve shirt that had been paired with the fluorescent yellow shorts.

"Who's going to be there mum?" asked Rachel.

"Everyone," replied Marion, frowning over the contents. "Nanny will be there, Granny, Gramps, Pa, Sean-mor, Uncle Matt, Uncle Gareth, Uncle Dave and Aunty Karen, Kat, Megan, Terri, Melissa, Fairy Mel" she rattled off their relatives and close family friends.

"I want _you_ to come mummy" said Jenny as Marion finally zipped the suitcase, and pushed herself onto Marion's lap, wrapping her arms around Marion's neck and burying her head.

"I want you to come too mum," said Rachel, sitting on the ground next to Marion and putting her arms around her.

Marion sniffed, blinking quickly. She felt an arm on her back and then Ben said gently. "Mummy's got to stay girls – she's got some important work to do. People are depending on her."

"Are you solving problems mum?" queried Rachel, that being the explanation she'd been given about what Marion did at work.

Marion nodded, feeling Ben's hand on her shoulder and tipping her cheek onto it. "You are going to have such a great time with everyone though – and I will get there, eventually." She gave the girls a big hug.

"Come on – we better get moving," said Ben bracingly and reached down to pick up Jenny.

Marion wiped her eyes and stood, taking Jenny's suitcase and loading it in the car, helping Rachel lift her bag. She checked Jenny's belt and reached in to give her a kiss, closing the door and walking around to give Rachel a kiss and a hug. She smiled at Ben sadly, he gave her an understanding smile and opened his arms. She walked into them, burying her head into his shoulder as the tears came. She pulled her head away abruptly, standing on tiptoes to plant an open mouthed kiss on him – which he met and returned – then she pulled away and stepped back from the car. She walked forward to bodily push her inquisitive horse out of the way and Ben started up the vehicle, turning once to say something to the girls – then the car passed her, the girls waving franticially. Rachel jumped out at the gate and Marion waved until the gate was shut, Rachel was back in the car and there was only a slight glimpse of the tail lights between the trees.

The horse snuffed at her, nudging her in the shoulder gently. "It is not dinner time yet," she chastised him and gave him a pat, to which he showed his distain by walking off and swishing her with his tail.

Marion walked slowly back up the steps into the house, making her way to her bedroom. She stopped at the sight of him laid out on the bed, gloriously naked, rolled over towards her, his bright blues gleaming at her.

"So it's just us is it sugar?"

Marion's eyes snapped open. There was a warm arm against her back, but there was no hand – it ended in a stump. One of her arms was over the top of a warm chest, her wrist clasped tightly by a hand. Her right leg was trapped between two legs, her knee... she blushed when she realised exactly where that was and she remembered what had happened the night before.

The guilt arrived by truckload then – the guilt for living, the guilt for doing anything with a man other than her husband. And she let it come – _she deserved it_. But she slammed the door on the regret, on the remorse. She would not regret what happened the night before, perhaps it was the stress, the adrenalin that was rushing her system, maybe it was an explosion of the sexual tension that had been hanging on for weeks – whatever it was and why it had happened didn't really matter. She'd needed that – and well she doubted that Merle was complaining. Although she wondered if perhaps it was the wisest idea, whether he would consider last night as the opening of the flood gates.

She tipped her head up and started slightly to see his blue eyes already looking down at her. She smiled at him, "morning."

"Mornin' sugar," he murmured back. He'd felt her tears on his arm, he knew that she must be regretting the night before but while he wasn't happy about it, he refused to feel guilty about it. Last night had to count as one of the best of his life – it wasn't like he hadn't had women down on him before, but it was normally because he had shoved her down there because she was too dirty for him to consider fucking her, or because she was too iced up to think. Never before had he had a woman actually volunteer to do that, who had worked him over so damn effectively. _No – he wouldn't feel guilty about that_.

"Your arm dead yet?" she asked him with a hint of a smile.

_So that's how it will be. _ He nodded. "Been dead for a few hours."

She winced, "sorry" and carefully she moved, rolling back up onto him. For a moment she stared down at him, their faces only centimetres away, then she backed away, over the bottom half of his body and sat – her shoulders hard against the tree, her toes somewhere about his knees. He brought his arm up and grimaced as the blood started to flow, lurching up and balancing himself on the branch so that his toes were just touching hers.

There were some moans from below as the geeks became aware of the movement above them and started to get excited again. The smell was horrendous; the slightly moist air holding the odour of decay like a blanket is on a cold winter's morning.

"Gimme t'at," said Merle and she looked at him in surprise before extending her leg. He scooted over closer, his toes against her rear end as he pulled at the knots of his sleeves. She knocked his hand out of the way and dealt with the knots, hissing and sitting back as the cold air hit to abused flesh. Merle poked around a bit, earning another hiss and a twitch. "It's infected," he said. "No surprise given it came from a hog – ya'll 'ave to t'row some of 'em pills down ya t'roat." She looked at him sharply and he elaborated. "T'ose ones from tha drugstore."

Marion pulled a face. "If I can figure out which ones I need and how many to take."

"I can do t'at," he said absently, looking at the cut in her leg and wondering if she could stitch herself. He became aware that she was staring at him. "Pills weren't my t'in', but I did 'nough of 'em I know wha' does wha'."

_Being grateful the man was a drug addict – priceless_ she thought involuntarily, suppressing a smile.

"Well come on – t'ese pricks ain't goin' ta piss off all by 'emselves."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

The glitch had gone through their camp – the tent was in a heap, the saucepan that Marion had started the water boiling on had been kicked several metres away – after it had boiled dry she realised, grimacing at the base of it. Most of the food that she had been readying for the meal had just been scattered, the couple of fresh items though had been taste tested and, upon not tasting like flesh, had been dropped. She didn't even bother touching these things, but she did pick up the other bits and pieces. Nothing in the car itself had been touched, it had all been sealed and so there had been nothing to attract them.

Their first order of business had been to drink, what with the run and then the whole night without anything they were all parched. Dog drank so rapidly that there was almost as much saliva coming out as water coming in and Marion ended up removing his water until he calmed down a bit. Merle found a few pieces of deer meat, dropping one almost casually to Dog before handing Marion a couple, along with a couple of pills. They chewed on the meat meditatively looked over the camp – then Marion pushed herself off the car and made her way over to the heap that was the tent.

She pulled at the ropes that had been holding the tent up, trying to straighten the fabric out so that she could find the entrance at least and remove their blankets and gear before trying to fold up the tent. There was a movement in the tent and she threw herself backwards – the tent rustled and a pair of legs kicked off part of the fabric, there was a growl from amongst the tangles.

"Leave it," said Merle in her ear. "Ya won't want ta sleep in t'at tent again anyhow."

Marion grimaced – he was right. "But our bags Merle – our clothes, they're in there." She turned to him. "It was hard enough getting them last time – I don't want to have to do it all over again."

He didn't really understand that – clothes were clothes. As long as they were warm enough, it didn't matter whether they fit properly or looked good. But he supposed women were different that way and then he remembered the other things that she might have in that bag. He knew she'd taken out the maps, but her photos – they were in that bag. He nodded and pulled out his knife. Ignoring the section of the tent which writhed as the geek tried to get out, he sliced through the canvas and lifted a section. As luck would have it the geek had landed on their bed and he straightened, letting Marion reach in and extract both of their bags.

"Come on – let's move b'fore t'at prick works his way out."

Marion nodded and held out her hand. "I'll drive."

"Dixons don't ride," he repeated automatically.

She wasn't having any of that. "You can't be serious? How much sleep did you have last night?" she demanded.

"Enough," he replied. He of course had had very little real sleep, but he had dozed on and off. "Imma used ta not 'avin' sleep."

She refused to repeat herself. "Merle Dixon," she ignored his roll of eyes as she dragged out his last name. "It is officially the end of the world – you can drop all of the racist, chauvinistic and misogynistic pre-conceptions of the world."

He wasn't entirely sure, but he thought she'd just called him a redneck. "I can't 'elp it sugar – it was how I was raised."

"And you're happy to follow your father's teachings," she challended with a raised brow.

_Touche – the word, hillbilly, is 'touche'._ "Why tha fuck ya want ta drive anyway?" he demanded belligerently.

She eyed him for a moment, wondering whether this was more than a single layered question. "I just feel like it," she replied. "Sometimes I just feel like driving – not all the time, just sometimes."

"Ya shouldn't be drivin' anyway," he said after a slight pause, some hint of acknowledgement in his voice.

"For what possible reason Merle?" she demanded. "And don't start on about how my reproductive organs on the inside – because I killed almost as many damn geeks as you then, and you know damn well I can drive... what?" she demanded as his grin grew.

_Fuck she looked hot when she got riled up like that._ "Ya just took two pretty 'eavy duty antibiotics," he said with more than a hint of superiority. "Ya ain't meant ta drive on 'em."

She deflated before his eyes and he was pretty such he caught a slight whisper of what could have been 'arsehole' as she put down her hand and walked around to the passenger side of the car.

"We're only going to Sylacauga," he said pacifyingly as he started the car. "Will only be drivin' for an 'our or so."

"Hmm," she acknowledged sceptically, already deep in the directory. He smirked and turned the car around.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Sylacauga announced a welcome as they turned off the 280, ignoring the abandoned cars on the on ramp, with a big white sign between, what appeared to Marion, two marble pillars. Another sign indicated that it had 15000 residents, although someone with a morbid sense of humour had crossed out the 15 with a spray of black paint. The main street, titled Broadway Avenue was lined with ornamental trees and large busts of people, animals and other abstract things that seemed also to be made of marble.

The prettiness of the town was wasted on Marion and Merle, the former busy figuring out where the next turn was and the latter watching for geeks. These came out of the buildings as the car trundled past, pulling themselves out of crashed or abandoned cars, out from side streets until they had a serious glitch behind them just as they turned into the street with the weapons store.

"We can't get through that," Marion said, wide eyed as she looked behind them.

"Nah," agreed Merle.

"But we have to get supplies," she said – not telling him something he already knew, but saying it out loud as if that might her sort through the problem. "How far do you think we can lead them?" she turned to him.

His brows rose and he slowed down slightly, then put his hand on the horn. The geeks increased their pace, seeing their quarry closer and being excited by the noise. Marion reached down and wound down her window, reaching across the front of Merle to wind down his – letting their scent waft out. There was an audible increase in the sound from the geeks – their pace increased again.

In the end they drove for a couple of hours – never really getting out of first gear, except when it looked like they might get caught in between groups of the glitch. Marion directed him away from the centre of town, where the weapons store was, and the geeks followed in a somewhat morbid version of the pied piper. The interest of the geeks faded after a while – Marion pulled off the bandages and hung them over the side mirror and the smell of blood attracted their attention again. Finally they decided that they'd gone far enough and Merle put the pedal to the floor, leaving the geeks behind and then following Marion's instructions to take them back to the centre of town.

They pulled up outside the shop – carefully examining the street, there was one geek shambling aimlessly at the far end, it hadn't yet caught their scent and wasn't even looking their way. Marion loaded her crossbow and stood behind Merle as he examined the door – it had been locked with a heavy duty chain and padlock – there was no way he was getting through that. He also didn't want to get stuck inside the shop with a whole pile of geeks between him and the vehicle. "Move sugar," he ordered and after a startled glance as he got back into the car, she whistled Dog and moved away.

Merle revved the engine and then deliberately reversed the car into the window. Stock went flying and the shattering glass reverberated through the street, bouncing off the buildings and echoing for several moments. Marion winced, but climbed over the top of the bonnet, which Merle had left protruding from the window to slow down any additional visitors.

Marion stood still for a second. _Yanks and their guns _she thought involuntarily, looking in amazement at the racks of guns lined up behind the counter with only a _bloody _rope threaded through them to stop them coming down. The counters were full of blades – knives like Merle's, machetes, throwing knives. _And she thought she'd seen it all_ she snorted – the place that she'd found the other guns and the crossbow was a kiddie's shop compared to this one. Dog growled and she turned, lifting the bow automatically – but laughed as she saw Dog with his hackles up, glaring at a banner of a deer. She walked forward and then leant in, reading the disclaimer notice about how using this could be dangerous in hunting season and she lost it.

"Wha' tha fuck is so funny?" demanded Merle from across the shop – in the quiet he had heard Dog's growl and had already been making his way in that direction but her laugh stopped him.

She looked at him for a moment, considering whether he would appreciate the irony, and decided not. "Oh nothing," she waved her hand. "Do you want another couple of jackets and stuff – this camouflage stuff looks pretty robust."

He nodded, his attention already on the weapons on display. "Git tha extra large," and he turned around again as she started giggling again. _Fuckin' woman had a warped sense of humour_ he groused inwardly, not wanting to admit even to himself that her laugh was possibly one of the prettiest sounds he had heard. He eyed off the rifles, but the one he had was just fine – it just needed bullets. _Although_ he reached up and with a quick slice of his knife freed another rifle, a lighter one, from the case. He nodded _just her size_. He started loading up the weapons bag then with bullets for all the guns, finding another couple of silencers for some of their handguns – unfortunately not all of them were compatible but he ended up with three silenced guns, which were worth their weight in gold. He passed over the knives, his Bowie was good enough for him – but then did a double take and pulled out one of the blades. He looked at the dagger carefully, assessing its strength, its balance, its weight – then reached in and grabbed out the sheath, burying it in the bottom of the bag. _Christmas was coming up after all _and with that thought he began to look more carefully at the shelves.

They'd been in there about half an hour when Dog growled – Marion moved to the window quickly, turning as Merle came striding to her. "About five of them," she reported.

He thrust the quiver into her arms _whole fuckin' shop and only one quiver of bolts_ and moved past her to look at the distance. They weren't moving with a terrible lot of purpose – they had a hint of a scent to work with but hadn't located them directly yet. "T'row tha bags in," he said, opening the car door to do just that. She'd already beat him to it, the back seat was loaded with sleeping bags, thermal blankets, jackets and what looked like a tent that was never ever going to look that small, neat and tidy again. "Let's move."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"Merle – stop," her words were accompanied by her hand on his arm.

"Wha'?" he asked, turning to her and seeing her head turned away. He leaned forward to see what she was looking at. "Ya fuckin' wit' me woman?"

She turned to him with an almost apologetic smile. "Please Merle – doesn't have to be for long."

"Hmph," he snorted, he knew about this woman and her prayers. But there were no geeks following them at the moment and the number of houses appeared to dwindle the further up the hill the road went. It was almost lunch time – they may as well sit somewhere than in the car to eat it _hell they probably needed to sort through what they had._ So he turned the wheel, driving the car up the hill towards the spire that she had seen over the top of the houses.

The church was situated at the absolute top of the hill. It had a wrought iron fence around the exterior of the grounds, which had in a previous world been kept manicured, the ubiquitous white marble in pillars every five metres or so holding the panels. The grass had grown in summer to almost knee high, but the driveway – white stone that could have been marble fragments, led openly to the large double doors, studded and hinged with cast iron. A large iron door knocker hung in the centre of each door.

Merle pulled the car up to the pedestrian access, Marion was in the middle of opening it even before he was out of the car. She led the way up to the door, but even as his mouth opened, she took the safety of one of the silenced guns off and looked at him. He set his own position and she pulled the door open.

Nothing.

Dog trotted into the church.

Marion met Merle's eyes and she walked around the door, looking in. She gave him a glance and a shrug and pushed the gun into the waistband of her jeans, flicking the safety back on.

"Saint Jude Catholic Church" she read from the notice on the side wall, above the table with the notices of who was on roster for reading and who was a special minister. "Constructed in 1808."

"Wha's tha difference?" he asked from behind her.

"Nothing," she replied softly. "All holy houses are the same whether they be Christian, Islamic, Sikh, whatever. There is something about a place where people worship that gives them a sense of peace. "

But she was lying, or she just wasn't aware of it – the sense of peace that entered her entire being as she crossed herself with the last drop of the water in the bowl, genuflected and knelt against the back of the pew – she hadn't had that at the last church. He watched her for a moment, as she stared up at the altar – which was made of white marble as were the steps that led to it and the floor. _These people sure did have a hard on for marble. _The figure of Jesus dominated the church, but shrines for Joseph and Mary sat to the side at the front, stubs of candles burnt out at their feet.

_Hell_ he'd never seen her this _fuckin' _serene. He felt like he was intruding and he muttered something about waiting for her. He didn't think she heard him, although Dog glanced up as he turned and walked outside. He glanced around, noting that the driveway extended around one side of the church and followed it with his gun in his hand.

Merle was back on the front step as she came out about half an hour later. She sat next to him and sighed.

"How far's Christmas off?" he asked.

She looked at him in surprise. "Three days," she said after some thought. "Why?"

He shrugged, "thought ya might want to stay for a bit then?"

"Can we?" she asked _like a fuckin' kid in a candy store._

He shrugged again. "It's as good a place as any ta sit for a bit – check out what we got. T'ere's good vision, ain't not'in' goin' ta come t'rough t'at fence – and t'ere's a back way out if we need it." _Through the cemetery but she didn't need to know that_. "'round tha back t'ere's a little 'ouse, got running water, even if it ain't hot. T'ere were a couple of shops in tha main street or 'round t'at we could git some more food from – t'ere were couple gas stations we could git some fuel, maybe even use it as a distraction ta git that geeks away. We can use t'is as a base – pick t'rough that town, git what we need."

She smiled. "That would be lovely."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Yes – Saint Jude does exist, but everything else is from me because I couldn't even find a picture of it on the internet.

Everyone has those Mastercard ads don't they?


	55. Chapter 55

Chapter 55

_Father Derek kept his little house very clean _thought Marion as she walked through the kitchen. _And then Merle came here_ she added with a smile and bent over to pick up Merle's dirty clothes from where he had dropped them on the way to the shower the previous night. She wondered if perhaps Daryl had gotten used to living in a pigsty _or_ she thought as she made it into the kitchen and saw Merle's plate _whether he has more than an unhealthy touch of OCD_ (1).

It was a simple house, two bedrooms – one which had been dressed as the office, a combined lounge, dining room and kitchen, combined laundry and bathroom with a separate toilet. There was nothing flash, the tv was lucky to be the size of the microwave and all decor clearly announced 1970s with the brown tones. But everything was clean and had been maintained: everything had a place and had been put there, there had only been a handful of clothes in the washing basket, all the sinks had gleamed and there hadn't been a hint of dirt on the floor. The office was a masterpiece in organisation – folders of different colours announced Parish, Diocese and Archdiocese. More folders were titled births, marriages, deaths – the latter had been left open on the desk, a piece of paper evidently being in the process of being transcribed when whatever happened, happened.

Marion placed the plate in the sink, her eyes narrowing at the sight of smeared egg and opened the cupboard door, ensuring that he had left her one for her own breakfast. She had slept in this morning, luxuriating in an actual bed which actually supported her hip rather than let it push through to the cold hard ground. It was a small bed, nothing flash, but it had felt like heaven after what they had been used to sleeping in. Merle of course had woken with the light and had then twitched and fidgeted until he had finally dragged himself out of the bed with a curse. She'd fallen asleep to the smell of cooking bread.

They'd walked the hill that first afternoon, checking in each and every house and dispatching any geeks that were around. Merle had left her to explore some of the backyards, looking for something that may be edible in the immaculate gardens that could be found at some of the houses while he piled the bodies in heaps at the base of the hill – their intention being to use the odour of death as a mask to their presence in the church. So far, two days later, it appeared that it had worked because they had not sighted a single geek.

Merle had occupied his time that first morning by cleaning the car – something she found ironic given the state he left the house in. He started by emptying every single thing out of it, all their boxes, all their bags. He gave her a glare when he found the bag she had been storing rubbish in, shaking his head incredulously when she had exclaimed that she 'couldn't just leave their rubbish in the bush'. He'd then found a sponge and some car wash and had actually washed the car, shining it until it gleamed, whinging about the paint chips from bullets, branches and geeks. She'd grinned when he'd come in looking for something to clean the windows and had given him the paper towel and some Windex. Her control however had been close to breaking when she noticed him swearing at the vacuum cleaner – but after she listened to a little of what he was swearing about she had decided to remove Dog from his orbit before Merle decided to shave him to prevent anymore of his hairs getting into the precious upholstery.

She'd wandered down the hill a little, keeping her bow loaded and at the ready, but with Dog bouncing next to her she wasn't overly concerned. She opened the back gate of the house that she hadn't gotten to the afternoon before and eased herself down the narrow corridor between the neighbour's fence and the brick wall. Dog had tensed and growled as they'd come up to the corner of the building and there was a sudden explosion of noise and colour right in front of her. She had released the bolt and there was sudden silence – she'd looked down with remorse at the now dead rooster. "Bloody unlucky mate," she had commented and lifted him by his feet. There had been another noise and she'd rounded the corner and smiled.

"Ya git some dinner?" Merle had greeted her. He had abandoned the vacuum cleaner by that stage.

"Well yes," she had said guiltily and lifted up the rooster. "And no," she lifted up the hen, who clucked a little weakly.

"Why tha fuck not?" had snorted Merle.

"Well I thought that we could keep Penny," she had replied. "For her eggs."

Marion cracked one of those eggs into the boiling water, watching it float to the lower end. Penny had been good enough to lay them one egg both days now, there had been lots in the coop but without knowing which was the most recent Marion had decided against it. So Penny was clucking contentedly in the middle of Father Derek's vegetable garden, cleaning up the overgrown vegetation and chasing the bugs, grubs and worms.

After that little adventure Marion had been busy sorting their supplies, his clothes, her clothes, food, cooking materials, camping materials. She threw out anything that looked spoiled or suspicious, having to restrain Dog from offering the garbage disposal service, was ripped significantly or broken. She then worked on repacking everything into their boxes, having found a couple that had taken a bullet (literally) and were therefore no good for the storage of their food. Merle had come in, stinking to high heaven of diesel and oil, while she had been trying (mostly in vain) to sift the weevils out from the flour.

"Head into town?" he'd asked and she'd nodded.

The geeks had returned to the town from where they had been led the day before, although not all of them had been able to make the journey. Proving the limitations in brain power, they'd led the geeks away from town using the same ruse as before – Dog even jumping out and barking at them to get them moving more quickly. They'd doubled back to the supermarket, however the internal glitch of geeks had cut short their supply run and they'd come away only with some tinned vegetables and some more candles.

Marion had spent some time in the church when they had returned, she in fact lost track of time and Merle came stomping in to find her. "Ain't ya said all yar prayers yet woman."

"Prayers are never finished Merle," she had smiled. "But I was actually admiring the sanctuary." She had stood up and walked over to him, pausing to straighten the portrait of the Pope that was hung on the wall near the curtain that hid the internal connection between the church and the house.

"S'pose ya reckon 'e's alive – tha' God protected him," Merle had growled in her ear.

She had shrugged, still with a half smile. "I suppose he had as much chance as anyone as not getting sick. If he did survive that – then yes, he's still alive," she ended confidently.

"Tha Hand of God ova 'im," Merle had almost sneered.

"Maybe," she had mused, "he is the Pope after all. But," she had turned to him with a superior tone, "he has those Swiss Guards – they may look ridiculous, but there is _no _geek that's getting past them." She'd nodded and turned away, hearing Merle snort before he followed her through the curtain.

"Finally," said Merle and she looked up from her breakfast.

"What?" But whatever clever rejoinder she had on her tongue was swallowed as Dog trotted in, a hide coat loosely strapped around him. "Oh Dog – what a _handsome_ coat." The whole process of being measured by Merle had been somewhat stressful and Dog hurriedly leapt into her lap, glaring at Merle. "Thankyou Merle!"

"Ya 'ave ta sew it up proper – I couldn't wit' me 'and." Merle hesitated for a moment. "If ya can git anot'er bit of cloth ya could line it wit' tha rooster's feathers – warm it up a bit for 'im."

Marion turned him a big smile as she unstrapped the coat from Dog and laid it on the table to inspect. "Sounds great."

Merle watched her stand with a wince and make her way to the kitchen, where she carefully stacked the dishes. He turned away and made his way into the bathroom, returning as she came back inside from retrieving a kettle full of water from the drum they had on almost perpetual boil on a fire outside. "Take off ya pants," he ordered.

Marion started, turning and almost spilling the boiling water on herself. "I _beg _your pardon?" He had been very careful to not push at her boundaries – his arm still normally ended up between her breast and his leg between hers and there was definitely a bodily reaction evident in her rear end each morning, but apart from a chaste kiss goodnight and morning, which he normally planted somewhere in her hair, he had made no advances on her.

Then she saw what he had accumulated on the table and sighed, placing the kettle down on the bench, obediently pulling the button and zipper on her pants as she walked to him. She braced herself on him while she kicked off her shoes and lowered her pants to her ankles. She yelped slightly, Dog yipped, as his arms came underneath hers and lifted her bodily up onto the table, seating himself in front of her and grabbing her leg.

"Going ta 'ave ta cut it," he decided after poking the angry red welt that stretched up her calf muscle, squeezing out a little bit of puss as Marion hissed. "Tha pills ain't going ta git on top o' t'is 'til ya git rid o' t'is yellow shit."

Marion grimaced slightly, but she could see _and feel_ how much better the slice wasn't getting. "Ok," she nodded with a sigh. "Where do you want me?"

Merle's hand stilled for a moment, Marion held her breath, then "lie down on ya belly," he ordered and dropped his knife into the boiling water.

She swallowed and swung her legs over, rolling onto her belly. She looked at Merle and wished she hadn't, he had tested the coolness of his knife on his arm and now held it hard against the scab on her leg. She turned to the front abruptly.

"On t'ree?" he asked and she nodded.

"One, two," she said but then her voice turned to a screech and she whirled. "Three – you said on three," she looked at the now open wound and hissed as he squeezed the yellowy blood out.

"'urts more if ya expecting it," he said absently and picked up the bottle of peroxide and poured it onto her flesh.

The screech this time was close to a scream and she banged her hand against the table, trying to distract from the searing pain pulsing through her leg. "Bloody hell Merle," she swore after a while, blinking away the tears. "Remind me not to put you in charge of my deathbed, you..."

"Wha' tha fuck?" he exploded and she jumped, turning to him and seeing with some surprise that he was angry. "Ya t'ink t'is is some type o' fuckin' joke?" he demanded. "Ya know how fuckin' close ya were ta gettin' killed?" _How close I was to losing you_. "Wha' if 'em geeks 'adn't showed up ta kill tha hog? Wha' if I 'adn't been able ta track ya? Wha' if ya'd been alone in 'em woods full o' geeks?" He surged up from the table, the chair fell over with a clatter and Dog barked; retreating as Merle stomped out of the kitchen, the outside door slamming.

He made it half way across the yard before he almost walked into a tree. He grabbed it, shaking the trunk and getting covered with the last of the leaves and several small branches. _Fuck_ he screamed in his head, banging his head against the timber. He couldn't cope with whatever this was – this fear for her safety, the thought that he would lose her and that he would be all on his own. He just wasn't used to actually having feelings, except for anger, towards anyone except Daryl – not since his mother left. He could remember days full of love and laughter with her, warm, soft and cuddly hugs from his Nanna – but they had stopped when she was gone, there was nothing but anger, contempt and fear in his life, except where it involved Daryl. And after a while there wasn't anything special between them – not on the surface anyway. _He needed a hit_ he decided _he couldn't cope with this shit. _

_She'll cut off ya fuckin' balls with that blade of hers,_ warned a voice _and she probably won't disinfect it!_

Merle slammed his hands against the tree, shaking it with his rage.

Then there was a warm body behind him, two hands tracing their way under his arms and curling up around his chest. "Merle," she whispered, standing on tiptoes so that she could get her mouth close to his ear.

He subsided, still breathing heavy.

"I know what this world is Merle," she continued. "I know exactly how... lucky," she reconsidered her choice of word at the last moment. "I was that you were there. But life is life – I'm not going to change who I am just because the world has gone to shit. Sometimes you just have to laugh – otherwise the only alternative is to cry." She paused, her voice dropping. "And I've done enough crying."

He turned in her arms, she kept them loosely on his waist as she looked up into his intense eyes. "Ya got ta be more careful woman," he said roughly.

She smiled and rose up on her tiptoes, kissing him on the cheek. His arms closed about her and he pulled her close, almost crushing her in his grip – but she said nothing. He released her abruptly and looked down at her leg which she'd managed to wrap a t-towel around before she'd come after him. "Fuck woman," he sighed. "Come on and we'll fix t'at up."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Marion padded through the house, enclosed in a blanket she had found in Father Derek's closet – inside under a roof with Merle on one side and Dog on the other she hadn't felt the need to load up the bed with blankets, but the walk from the bedroom to the bathroom was cold and after the first night, when she'd woken up Merle getting back into bed with the temperature of her body, she'd placed the blanket next to the bed. She noticed it was just after midnight by her watch _officially Christmas Day_ and instead of making her way back to bed she turned down the hallway. She heard Dog hit the floor as he jumped off the bed upon hearing her steps change direction and within a couple of seconds he was trotting at her heels.

The moon and stars generated a gentle light through the windows, making the marble almost luminescent and she smiled as she knelt at the steps. She looked up at the statue of Jesus, _Our Father who art in Heaven _she started, letting the familiar prayer cycle through her mind. _I thankyou Lord for the gift of your Son, who made the ultimate sacrifice so that we may join You in the Kingdom of Heaven. I thankyou Lord for the blessings of shelter, food, water and your Hand over us as we move through this world. Please may You hold Your Hand over Daryl and his friends – bring them safely to meet us somewhere so that Merle may have a measure of peace._

_I ask you to bless the souls of those that have died – those that were close to me and those that I have never met. Please give them peace._

_I ask for Your forgiveness for those I have killed. May Simon have peace in the arms of his family within the circle of your Glory._

She held there for some time, letting the memories of her family and friends wash over her mind as they would, projecting her prayers rather than thinking them. She crossed herself and stood, looking up at Jesus again. _Happy birthday Lord_.

She turned to leave the church but paused, moving to the right a little. She didn't lower herself to her knees this time, but looked up into the face of Mary's statue. "Hail Mary, full of grace," she said the prayer out loud, but in a soft whisper. "Mother Mary – hold them tight, give them comfort, watch over them because I cannot." She blinked a couple of times, holding back the tears that threatened to come, and sniffed. She stayed another minute, the sweet faces of her girls distinct in her memory. She sniffed again and turned away, pushing apart the curtain for Dog to precede her down the hallway.

A slight snore echoed down to her and her lips twitched. Sure enough, in her absence Merle had rolled on his back, his left arm folded beneath him so that her spot was preserved, but his right stump out at right angles and his legs spreadeagled across the bed. Merle didn't believe in pyjamas, but he kept a pair of sweats on just for her. Half of his chest was bare to the night and she let her eyes trace it, dwelling on some of the scars that were visible even from where she stood. Marion smiled as she looked at him, leaning against the doorway as her eyes came up to his face. He looked younger when he slept, the cynicism in his eyes and around his mouth softened. His eyes, although obviously closed, didn't look like they were ever narrowed in suspicion and his lips were almost turned up at the edge. He snored again, the volume increased from the previous and she stifled a giggle, looking at him with...

Marion's eyes widened with surprise. It wasn't just affection that she held for this man – one who exhibited everything her mother warned her about. He was rough, he was coarse, he was sexist, he was racist, he was dangerous – but that was on the outside. _On the inside though_ she thought. He was brave, he was honourable, he was patient – well he was with her. It was the wounds that life had inflicted; it had made him wear armour that kept people away, anyone that might hurt him again. What they had been through, each of them had had to move a bit but he perhaps had moved the most. She examined her feelings – it had crept up on her, but it was undeniable. She loved this man. There was nothing that she couldn't say to him, she trusted him with her life, with her virtue and she grinned at that last one. She looked down at her hands – at the white mark where her rings used to be, to the other hand where the copper band was discolouring and leaving green marks on her skin.

He could never replace Ben, she knew that. Ben was a part of her life that had been wonderful and she would always have love for him in her heart. But Ben was dead and she was alive. And finally, after some struggles, she _felt _alive. She wanted to start a _life_. And Ben would have wanted her to be happy, strangely enough she thought he would have liked Merle, he too had that ability to accept things as they were and deal with them like Merle did – although perhaps not with the cynicism.

_It was time to move on_ she decided.

Marion looked at him, asleep but starting to twitch as his body recognised that he was alone. She knew that he would wake in a few minutes. She looked at him – he'd taken up the middle of the bed, still angled somewhat to his left from his previous wrapping around her body. But there was room on the right. She could crawl in there, he'd wake up. _It would be an early Christmas present for him _she thought with a grin, a warming already starting in her belly.

Then she looked up – the picture of Mary on the wall above the bed. There was a picture of Christ on the other wall.

She sighed and, dropping the blanket, eased herself onto his left side. She pushed her body against his side as there was another snore and it hitched, his arm curling around her and finding its normal nest between her breasts as his body rolled over and all but enclosed her.

"Fuckin' ice cube," he muttered in her ear and she smiled, wriggling just a little to get everything in its right place and closing her eyes.

_It wasn't going to happen tonight, but it was going to happen._

Dog sniffed, jumping up and turning around three times before plopping against her shins, his rooster feather lined deerhide coat secured with a belt buckle.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Patience. Patience is a virtue!

(1) Answers to this conundrum to be found in Exile by WTFdoUwantNOW


	56. Chapter 56

Chapter 56

Marion stirred when Merle's arm tightened around her and her eyes snapped open. _There was something_ she thought, _something about today_. Then her eyes lit up and her lips stretched in a smile as she remembered. _It was Christmas_.

Then she remembered the other thing that was special about the day. _She loved Merle._

The light was muted and she frowned. Merle's body clock was faultless and even her own was pretty close; it was very rare that either of them woke up before they meant to – unless there was something. She moved her head slightly, and Dog thumped his tail at her, but kept his nose hidden under his paws, his body curled up tight. He wasn't shivering and she smiled. Merle twitched again and she rolled her head – his face was just centimetres off the back of her head, although higher up because he hated having anything up around his neck whereas she was curled up not only under his arm but the blanket and the quilt. She watched as his eyes and mouth twitched slightly, close to waking and carefully she eased her body around, Dog moaning as he was disturbed slightly, until she faced him.

His blue eyes snapped open and for a moment she saw them as God intended them to be – clear pools of cobalt full of joy and wonder – then they were partially hooded as he awoke properly. He frowned slightly, unused to having her facing him.

"Merry Christmas," she said brightly and leaned up to kiss him.

It was an indication that he was still half asleep that her lips had left his again before he recognised what she had said. His lips curled up. "Merry Christmas sugar," he murmured, pulling her closer so that her curves – unfettered in the safety of the house – were pushed against him. His body reacted and he waited to feel her stiffen and pull away a little, but she snuggled her head into his shoulder, only moving her leg a little to put a little bit of distance between their nether regions. He sighed, feeling her breath on his neck and then her arm track over his chest, and settled back down into the pillow.

_Christmas! _He thought and his eyes snapped back open. He gave her ass, where his stump had naturally migrated given the change in orientation, a pat and she lifted her head – he rolled out from under her head and all the way over so that his hand could reach under the bed. "Merry Christmas sugar," he repeated, although this time a little awkwardly as he handed her a roughly wrapped, and quite unwieldy parcel.

Marion sat up hurriedly, the blankets falling to her waist and the cold having an immediate effect on her body. But he didn't notice, he was watching her eyes light up as she ripped the sticky tape off the paper and unfolded it, pulling out the scabbard first. It was leather, carvings reminiscent of Celtic designs up and down its length, light but sturdy.

"It should fit ya sword," he said self-consciously. "If it don't..." But she had already rolled away and picked up her sword – like a hand in a glove the steel slid into the scabbard. "Ya can keep bot' 'ands on tha bow," explained Merle.

"Thankyou!" she exclaimed and leaned in to kiss him, pulling away before he could react. She gasped as she saw the next item in the paper and she carefully laid the scabbard down to pick up the silver inlaid sheath, examining it carefully before sliding the dagger out almost reverently. The knife gleamed, the silver pommel shone, the red timber handle reflected the light and the three emeralds sparkled. But most of her attention went to the two dragon heads, situated at the top of the blade – a guard for her hand – and wrapping silver tails around the top of the blade. There was enough weight about the dagger to make it dangerous enough, but light enough that she was going to be able to use it.

"Ya once said ya was born in tha year of tha dragon," he said hesitantly in her silence. "I thought..."

"You thought right," she said and she leaned in again. He was ready for her this time and his arm wrapped around her, holding her there as he met her kiss with his own. They were both breathing slightly heavily when she finally pulled away. "Thankyou Merle," she smiled at him. Then she rolled over and put the knife on the desk, hopping out and skipping out of the room. She was back before he could do more than frown, wondering what had happened, and almost hopped back onto the bed, crossing her legs and presenting him with a large, much more neatly wrapped package. "I was going to save it for breakfast," she shrugged.

Merle sat up slowly. He couldn't actually remember the last time that he had been given a present – well he could, it had been when Daryl had been nine and Merle had been on the way to the Marines. He'd had his hair cut short and he had his kit bag full of khaki green clothes, a new set of shiny dog tags hanging around his throat. Daryl had forgotten himself and thrown his scrawny little body at him; despite himself he'd closed his already brawny arms around him. There hadn't been many words, there never was in the Dixon household, but they'd stayed that way for a couple of minutes, Daryl finally surfacing with a sniff but firmly resolute face. He'd then reached around into his back pocket, "I swept up old Mr Adams' drive, he gave me five dollars," he whispered the sum as if it was a king's ransom. "I went ta tha pawn shop, ta try and git tha tv back," Merle had sighed but inwardly. "Ol' Doug wouldn't give it back – but 'e said I could take mah pick out o' that counter. There weren't nothin' for me – but I thought ya might like this?"

Merle eyed the cuff on his wrist – it had gone in the kit bag and stayed there until he had been discharged, but from then on it had gone on and never moved. The leather was a bit scuffed around the edges, frayed even and he'd lost one or two of the silver studs, the cross in the centre was tarnished. But it never came off.

Marion was gripping her bottom lip in her teeth and he suddenly realised he'd just been sitting there. He pulled the parcel into his lap and ripped the paper off. And stared. He picked it up awkwardly, his stump under one of the sleeves. It was a motojacket and he reckoned it had to be one of the nicest things he'd ever held in his hands, let alone owned. The leather was soft and supple, a dark brown with light brown stripes just above the elbow and around the waistband. There were zippered pockets on both sides, stretching up from the waist to chest, with a mandarin collar and enclosed zipper at the front.

"Do you think it will fit?" she asked in concern. "I took one of your shirts with me, but they're so old..."

"Wha' tha fuck ya mean, ya took one o' me shirts?" he demanded. "Where tha hell did ya find t'is?"

"A house up the road," she soothed. "There was a sign – 'Leather Jackets for Men' – must have been a home business." She took her lip between her teeth. "Is it ok?"

"More t'an fuckin' ok woman," he grunted.

She bounced on the bed and he looked down at the rest of the parcel, his lips quirking slightly as he took in the boots – jet black except for the silver eyelets and the buckle for the strap. _No more laces_ which he had to do up with his teeth, cursed as he tangled every night and which she surreptitiously untangled before he needed to put them on again.

Marion shrugged, "You needed new ones anyway."

Merle turned back to the paper and pulled out the belt – she'd either gone through every damn belt or been damn lucky. It was brown, pretty much matched the inset colour of his cuff, but it was lined alternatively with silver studs and eyelets except for the middle of the belt in which the word 'Triumph' was pressed.

"Is it the right one?"

He swallowed and nodded and the bed bounced again.

"T'anks Marion," he said quietly, only half looking at her.

"You're welcome," she smiled and moved to get back under the blankets, shivering slightly. "Ooh it's cold this morning."

"Snow normally is," he said blandly.

"Snow?" she repeated in excitement. "There's _snow_?"

"Yeah – so?" he reached his arm over her and found that she had gone, bouncing out of bed _like a fuckin' jack rabbit_ and haphazardly throwing sweats and a jumper over the top of her pyjamas before bolting out the door, Dog barking at her heels. A burst of cold air told him that yes indeed she had gone to look at the snow. He dragged himself out of bed, and pulled a shirt over his head, grabbing the old jacket off the floor and laying the new one very carefully over the back of a chair before following her.

"It's beautiful," she breathed looking over the yard which had received somewhat more than a sprinkling of snow and which glistened back in the morning sun. She heard a snort behind her and dropped her elbow into his belly not so softly. "I've _never_ had a white Christmas Merle," she explained. "I mean we sing all the songs and have the trees – but our Christmas is close to the middle of summer – Christmas is normally 30 degrees," she frowned for a moment then shook her head _the conversion had a fraction with 5 and a 9 in it plus then you had to add something. _"Suffice to say it was normally bloody hot," her tone became reflective. "Of course Grandma insisted on having a lamb roast, she had the old wood fire stove – the only time she turned off the air conditioning was when we sat to eat lunch – sweat would be rolling off your nose into your gravy!" She heaved a sigh and then, with a sideways glance at him, stepped out into the snow. "I mean I have seen snow, I've ski-ied. But a white Christmas? That's something special."

The snowball hit Merle full on in the face and he snapped back to awareness. "Ya lit'le..." he started but then had to duck the next one. He moved forward and she shrieked, Dog barking as Merle bent and retrieved a handful of snow and hurled it at her. Her hands were better at forming the ball than his one, but his one was as big as her two put together and despite the left hand his throw was better than hers at the long distance. So she came in closer, using both hands at once to try and catch him in cross-fire. He ducked and ran forward, she shrieked again and dodged, going to his right to avoid the big paw that reached out for her, but despite his size he was quick and his arm wrapped around her waist. He dragged her against him and twisted so that he hit the ground first then swiftly rolled over her and she grinned back at him.

Merle looked at her below him _where she should be,_ her hair wet, her face laughing and her eyes twinkling. Her smile suddenly died.

Marion stared up at him, the real smile that had been on his face dying as he looked back at her. She swallowed and reached her hands up to his waist, half opening her mouth as he dipped down towards her. His lips touched her forehead gently and she thought her heart was going to burst with love for the man. Then he sat up, a handful of snow in his left hand, her shirt and jacket over his stump – and dumped the snow directly onto her bare breasts.

Marion shrieked, and pushed at him – he was laughing so hard that he actually did topple over and she rolled over on the top of him and dumped two handfuls of snow on top of him. He surged up and she was on the ground again – he reached over to get another handful and she did the only thing that she could.

She tickled him.

Merle was ticklish.

The handful of snow dropped as he shouted out, reaching for her hands as they mercilessly dug around his ribs, in his belly and in his back – using her fingernails to deadly effect. Catching two hands in one was not as easy as he thought and he rolled off her, quickly regaining his feet before she could follow. She was laughing as much as he was and for a moment they both rested, then she reached down to get another snowball. He lunged forward, sweeping her off her feet and pulling her up into her arms.

"Merle!" she laughed and then she turned to see where he was going. "Merle!" she screamed and started to struggle to get free. His hold was unrelenting though and her tactic changed – she half turned and wrapped one arm underneath his, joining with her other hand behind his back. "If I'm going – you're going!" she promised in his ear.

He flexed his shoulders – she had a good grip. He turned his head and smirked. Her eyes widened and she buried her head in his shoulder – and he fell forward into the snow drift. Dog barked, jumping up and down as they all but disappeared in the pile of snow. Then there was a flurry and Merle surfaced, laughing and extended a hand to pull Marion up. She took it, wiping the tears away from her face as she tried to calm her breathing. She shivered despite her jacket and Merle pulled her under his arm – he was as wet as she was, but his body heat took a bit of the chill off. "Merry Christmas sugar," he said and kissed the top of her head.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"I think we should head off tomorrow," Marion said casually as they ate their dinner. Merle had been encouraged by her return with the rooster and hen and upon finally agreeing with her that the hen was best kept alive, he had gone out searching himself. He'd returned with a pig over his shoulders so their Christmas dinner was roast pork – the smell of which had permeated through the entire house from the gas oven. Marion had searched the baby food aisle and found apple source and then insisted on finding the gravy mix because she refused to have weevils for Christmas. They'd doubled their allowance of candles for the occasion and they were bathed in warm flickering light. They'd opened a few cans of vegetables and Marion had gravely presented him with one bottle of beer which she had chilled in the snow. There was apple pie for dessert, although Marion had sadly accepted that there was no possibility of icecream to go with it. The same farmlet that had supplied the pig may well have been able to supply some cream but Marion's Babylonian lessons hadn't stretched that far.

Dog lay satisfied at their feet after having stuffed himself with a generous portion of pork and gravy (he'd turned his nose up at the apple sauce and earned Merle's approval).

"It's just snowed," frowned Merle. "Ya want ta 'ead out in it?"

"You didn't think it's going to last did you?" she sought clarification about his earlier comments.

He shook his head; the snow had pretty much melted off during the day, leaving only slush. "Too early for any real snow – wouldn't expect much 'ere anyway. Will be furt'er nort' we go," he added warningly then he paused and said almost diffidently. "I t'ought ya might want to 'ang 'round 'ere anot'er day or so."

_Typical_ though Marion wryly, _never wants to go near a church and now I need him out of one..._

"It's not like the cricket is on, there's no race to watch – without those Boxing Day is pretty much just the day after Christmas," she shrugged. "We need to keep moving otherwise we'll never get to Nebraska – and what happens if they move the camp?"

_Typical_ thought Merle _just get the woman to a place where there's a real bed and she wants to leave. _"OK – we'll 'ead out tomorrow."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

The fact that it was our own Hugh Jackman wearing the jacket may have perhaps had some influence on my decision. The knife is the Entwined Dragon Knife and will set you back $325 + $15 postage from Omega Artworks.


	57. Chapter 57

I have split what would have been this chapter into 2 parts - All you grown up girls (and at least one boy) are allowed to read both of them but my children – you should skip C58 because it is M rated and includes smut. I have carefully constructed this (and the next chapter) so that if you don't want to read smut you will not be missing out of any of the storyline by skipping that particular chapter.

Chapter 57

Merle awoke to a soft breath against his face. He held himself still, feeling the presence getting closer and closer. He opened his mouth slightly in anticipation.

Dog licked him and he pitched up into a sitting position. "Wha' tha fuck?" he glared at the dog that sank back onto the bed, and cautiously thumped his tail. "Just 'cause I gave ya a fuckin' side o' pork," grouched Merle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked around – it was still early but her side of the bed was cold: she'd been gone for a while. The fact that Dog was there though...

Marion padded in, huddled up in her blanket, pausing only half a step when she saw him awake. "Sorry – did he wake you up?" She doffed the blanket and jumped into bed, moving over so that she was close to his warmth.

Merle hissed as her feet, icy despite being in socks, touched his. "Fuck woman," he complained, lying down and putting his arms behind his head. "Ya need some fuckin' slippers."

"A pair of uggies would be nice," she nodded. "Not sure where I'd find them here though."

"I got no fuckin' idea wha' ya on 'bout woman," he said sleepily. "But why should today be any diff'rent?"

She giggled and moved so that her head was resting on his shoulder, her arm wrapped over his bare stomach. There was silence for a while.

"I was thinking," she said and Merle opened a lazy eye to show that he was still awake. "Do you have any ID with you?"

He shook his head. "Daryl might still 'ave it – was in me saddlebags." He frowned. "Why?"

"I think they'll probably want proof of identity when we register," she said. "I have my Australian driver's license – that should do them. But what are we going to use for you?"

He snorted. "I ain't fuckin' regist'ring for anyt'in'."

She sat up slightly to look into his face. "But you have to – don't you?" His expression was enough for her to feel the need to continue. "They need to know who you are, your skills, your training – allows them to allocate resources properly, get some form of society up and running again."

"Sugar – t'ere ain't no government goin' ta want ol' Merle in their new society."

"Why not?" she demanded. "You're a physically fit man with weapons training, excellent bushman skills, mechanical skills – plus you can cook."

He sighed _for a smart woman she could be dumb. _ "Wha' do ya reckon a search on Merle Elwood Dixon will tell anyone? It'll show a history o' crime since I was twelve, inta drugs not long after, dishonourably discharged from tha Marines, in and out o' jail, suspected o' a whole heap of assaults t'at couldn't be proved. Where 'xactly do ya t'ink t'ey'll want me?"

_Elwood? _She thought with a slight smirk. _No wonder he grew up angry. _She twitched her nose _he had a point_. "Well I suppose we'll just have to register you as Merle Elwood Arnold." She had lain back down and didn't see the wild look that entered his eyes. "That'll get you on there without any baggage."

"How tha fuck ya goin' ta convince 'em _you're_ my wife?" he said in a very thick Southern drawl.

She chuckled. "I came over here on a holiday and we ended up at Vegas?" she suggested, looking at her ring _quality looked about right_. "I'll think of something." She paused for a moment then moved again to look at him, "will Daryl think the same? Would he put his name down on a government list?"

Merle was still struggling with the concept of stepping into her husband's shoes _it ain't his shoes ya was fixing to follow was it? _asked a voice slyly. He shook himself. "Not unless 'e's changed a fuckin' 'ell of a lot."

"Do you know the names of the others in his group then?" she asked from back against his shoulder.

Merle frowned in concentration. "Tha cop was Shane... Shane Walsh, his woman was Lori – but tha way t'ey was creepin' 'round maybe she ain't a Walsh – had a kid Carl. Sweet lit'le blond duo Amy and ... Andrea – no idea wha' their last name was. T'ere was Dale... Hor .. something. T'ere was Sophia Peletair, parents Carol and Ed. T'en t'ere was tha nig... black man T-Dog, the asian Glenn and the Mexican Morales, 'e 'ad a wife and kids. T'ere was any number o' ot'ers I didn't know anyt'ing 'bout – but who knows 'ow many survived t'at glitch."

"That should give us something to work with – Shane, Lori, Carl, Amy, Andrea, Dale, Carol, Sophia, Glenn – not sure whether T-Dog would be an accepted name," she added with a slight smirk. "We find a combination with them and we will know that Daryl is with them."

Merle allowed himself another few minutes of lying in bed, luxuriating in the feel of her body pressed against his body. Her fingers had found the scar which started at his sternum and sliced its way down to his hip bone – a legacy of a drunken father one night, he remembered that Daryl had scored one that night as well that ran along above his collar bone. She was tracing it up and down within the reach of fingers while leaving the palm of her hand in the same place. His body started to enjoy the sensation a bit too much though and he shifted his leg a little to hide the evidence; her hand stilled, her little finger just at the top of his sweats. It was too easy to remember what it had felt like when her hand had been just a little bit lower and with an internal groan he pulled himself away from her, rolling into a seated position and shuddering a little as his movement pulled his belly and other hip underneath her fingers. He took a deep breath and tried to adjust himself a little so that he could stand and still expect her to meet his eyes. A movement sounded behind him and he turned and stared at her naked back as she pulled off her pyjamas, applied deodorant and strapped up her bra. He turned abruptly, biting his tongue.

"You coming?" she asked as she walked to the edge of the bed, looking over curiously at him, Dog trotting past her feet.

"In just a minute," he forced out, wondering if he imagined the twinkle in her eye as she nodded and left him to it. He gave her a couple of minutes until he heard the back door close as she went to release Penny from her nightly hutch and then stood to stride straight to a cold, a very cold shower.

It took then the better part of the morning to get everything ready and packed. At Marion's insistence and then in her response to her suggestion that the chicken could always sit on the back seat Merle managed to scrounge enough materials from the priest's garden to make a secure box for the hen, with Marion's two hands assisting he managed to put it together with only a minimal amount of cursing. He leant back on the fence expecting some entertainment when she went to catch the hen, but sourly observed the hen meekly allow itself to be picked up and placed in the box with a stone container full of seed and another full of water. He was ready to go then, but Marion returned to the house, washing the dishes and tidying up the bedroom, so he occupied himself checking again that everything in the back was secured properly. She still wasn't out when he had finished so he walked into the room.

"Wha' tha fuck?" he demanded, seeing her seated at the table and writing a _fuckin' _novel.

She started, too engrossed to notice Dog's mild growl. "Well I thought that someone else may come here one day," she turned back to her page. "Which way is that farm you found the livestock?" She gave him a look when he pointed "I _know_ that – is it north, east, south, west – what?"

He shook his head. "East," he said in resignation. _Woman was hopeless._ "'Bout half a mile."

She scribbled a bit more and then stood, placing an empty vase onto the top of the paper. "I'll just air out those sheets."

"Tha fuck ya will," he grabbed her by the arm and hauled her towards the door. "Ya reckon anyone who gets 'ere is goin' ta give two 'oots tha' tha bed's been slept in? Not like we did anyt'in' in it," he added grumpily.

Marion grinned and pulled out of his grip, pulling the door closed without locking it and jogging over towards the gate, closing it securely after he drove through. She gave one more glance at the church and smiled, before turning to get into the car, Dog leaping up onto her lap.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

They pulled up next to a small pond off the edge of the road a little bit before sunset. Auburn could be seen in the distance; they'd turned off the 280 as they had started encountering the greater build up of house and businesses, taking a minor road to the west with the intention of circling the city and then catching the 280 on the other side to head towards Birmingham. They surveyed the land carefully for several minutes, trying to spot anything that moved. Dog bounded out, disturbing a rabbit and Marion yelled at him, but the dog pinned his ears back and flattened out into a run, gaining on the rabbit as it bounced up and over the tall grass – the rabbit jinked and Merle laughed as Dog skidded to a halt, shaking his head with disappointment.

The new tent caused them a little bit of trouble, Merle swore and threw down the poles, then froze as Marion grabbed his bicep for a few seconds while she re-read the instructions. "Ah" she said as if enlightened and she bent to pick up the poles, flicking them over and changing them for others that they had designated for something else. Things fit together immediately and she grinned in triumph at him, carelessly brushing against him as she walked back to the other side of the tent. He grabbed the rifle almost fiercely as the last peg went in and stalked off to do a perimeter check before dark arrived, sending Penny up in a flap as he stomped past her.

Marion hummed as she placed the foam mats, sleeping bags and pillows into the tent, slightly rearranging their normal format. She took a glance around and climbed into the car, opening one of the boxes and digging to the bottom to find what she wanted and slipping them into her pocket. She was back on the ground by the time he stalked back, his hair wet.

"Water cold?" she hid a grin.

"Fuckin' freezin'" he grouched _but not cold enough_ he thought later as her fingers brushed his as she handed him a plate piled with roast pork. His blood was surging, had been all day _because_ _she kept touching him_. It had started this morning when he had come out dressed, she'd smiled at seeing the motojacket on him and had swept her hands over it, smoothing out the crinkles and fixing up his collar, then she had scooted over to sit next to him while they considered the best road for them to take, then she had fallen asleep for a little while but instead of curling up against the door like normal she had stretched her belt as far as it could and laid with her head on his thigh – his stump had naturally found a place on her hip. Then there'd been a few casual bumps while unpacking and putting up the tent. He was glad that she felt comfortable in his presence _but she was going to fuckin' kill him soon._

Marion ate her dinner with an increasing amount of butterflies in her belly – it felt a bit decadent eating the amount but it would only go off without any refrigeration so they figured on storing a bit ahead of what could be a lean winter. She looked over at Merle and found his eyes on her and dropped hers hurriedly, glad that their light was restricted to the flames of the fire because she was pretty sure she was blushing. Her whole body was tingling in anticipation, had been the whole day since the slight striptease she had given him in the morning, since she had pressed her leg against the length of his, since his stump had rested between her hip and waist – only a slight move away... she groaned inwardly.

Merle made a noise and stood, dropping his empty plate into the bucket that was their washing up "Do a final check over," he grunted and she nodded.

Marion swept the last of her food to the ground for Dog to take care of and stood, she grabbed her toothbrush and quickly cleaned her teeth, giving Penny only a cursory glance to ensure that she had settled in her cage under the tarp before hurrying to the tent. She had debated about whether she should be in bed before or after him, she'd decided that before was the better way to approach her planned evening activity. She stripped off her clothes, pulling a pair of tracksuit pants and t-shirt on, shivering as she slid down between the blankets. She placed the crossbow and her new blade close to the bed and turned the gas lantern down to low.

Dog sniffed, his head slightly turned on the side as he looked at her, then he hopped over her legs and curled up against her knee. He lay down with his ears pricked and his nose twitching and growled lightly. Marion took a deep breath and crossed her arms over her belly.

Merle's footsteps stomped about, pausing as he noticed she had gone to bed, but then continuing for several minutes as he underwent his own ablutions.

Marion felt like screaming as the minuted ticked by, but finally his steps approached the tent and he ducked in. He took in her form and offered a perfunctory smile.

"All clear?" she asked in as normal a voice as she could manage.

"Can't see a fuckin' thing," he said sourly. "Fell into a fuckin' ditch," he felt her eyes dip to his lower half and his lower half responded. He clamped down hard. "I'll 'ave ta stay awake ta keep watch."

_NOOO_ screamed Marion internally. Outwardly she scoffed, "Dog can look after it."

_FUCK _yelled Merle inwardly. He wasn't going to be able to cope with a night lying next to her, not after the day that he'd had. "I'll wait 'til ya asleep," he compromised and bent to pull the buckle on his boots, and kicked them off. He put his hand to his belt and suddenly realised her eyes were still on him, he dry swallowed and slipped the belt, undoing the button and zipper – her eyes darted away and he sighed, dropping his jeans and boxers and pulling on a pair of sweats. He shrugged out of his jacket and carefully folded it into his bag and then shrugged out of his overshirt and dropped it to the ground. It was cold out so he left his shirt on and leaned forward to turn off the gas lamp and then crawled under the blankets with her.

There was silence.

Except for the hoot of a couple of owls either side of the pond and the odd croak of a frog.

Then she giggled. It was a slightly high pitched giggle, more like a school girl's than a grown woman's and he frowned, wondering what was wrong with her.

"Wha' ya laughing 'bout woman?" he demanded, thankful at least that she wasn't pushing her ass into his groin.

"You," she replied, her voice thick with laughter.

"Wha' tha fuck for?" he turned his head to look at her. The flickering of the subsiding fire danced over the back of the tent, but his shadow hid her face.

"Oh Merle," she all but groaned.

He propped himself up on his elbow, laying his stump along the ground. And it hit him. "Wha' that fuck ya doin' t'ere?"

"I'm always here Merle," she was still laughing at him, the fire light sneaking underneath his arm and twinkling in her eyes.

"Ya on tha wrong side," he said.

"Am I?" she challenged.

Enlightenment arrived, albeit is cautiously in case this was some type of sick joke. "We been sleeping in a bed for a week and ya choose a paddock to come onto me?" he demanded, seeking absolute clarification.

"I'm a Catholic Merle," she explained. "Maybe not a good one, but a Catholic regardless." She paused and smiled. "There're some things that Catholics just don't do – such as having sex in a priest's bed."

"Ya be fuckin' wit' me?" he said incredulously.

"Well not yet," she exclaimed. "Despite my best efforts I have to say. I'm starting to wonder what I have to do..."

Dog growled as Merle cut short her wondering.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Remember – C58 is M rated.


	58. Chapter 58

Includes smut I said? It is pretty much all smut and while not overly long I do hope you enjoy it! May I suggest that work is not the place to be reading this chapter, or at least perhaps a discreet glance around to make sure no-one is observing. I fully expect to have some of you making a vocal response to this chapter.

Chapter 58

Her eyes twinkled at him, "I'm starting to wonder what I have to do..."

He swooped on her then, claiming her mouth as his own, denying her any opportunity to participate, totally dominating her – ignoring the growl from Dog. Marion allowed it, knowing that patience was not his strong point and that he had been denied for far too long. She revelled in the power above her, the caged animal that she had just given freedom to. His mouth moved from hers, tracing down her neck, down across the fabric of her shirt – breathing fire until he came to the curve of her breast, then it scorched her, enclosing her nipple and teasing not quite gently with his teeth. She gasped and arched up into his mouth – protesting as he pulled back suddenly, but he hauled her up with him and reefed her shirt over her head. He lowered her back to the ground, holding her wrists above her head while his mouth attacked her breasts, sucking, nibbling, biting, as they were pushed up by her position. Her breath was growing ragged, she wanted her hands back and suddenly she got them and she wrapped them around his head, bringing him back to her for a kiss.

It was as demanding as the first and she gave freely, meeting his tongue and teasing it until she could feel the groan from deep inside him. She moved her hands, finding and entering under the bottom of his shirt, dragging it up and, as he moved for her with a muttered curse, over his head and off his arms. She returned her hands to his chest, tracing down over the muscles and up over the rib cage, up along his spine to where his shoulders bulged as he held himself above her, over each of the rounded biceps and then back again. She could feel the raw power resonating from within him and she wanted it _Right then_.

Merle adjusted his weight to his stump to free up his hand, curling it around one of her breasts and flicking his thumb over her erect nipple – it puckered even further and she groaned, arching up as her nails curled into his shoulders. He lowered his mouth to the other breast, teasing it with his teeth, rolling it around with his tongue and then drawing it into his mouth and sucking it.

"Merle," she groaned and he moved forward again, taking her mouth for his own as he pressed his rock hard shaft directly up against her centre. He tasted her gasp and his elbow almost buckled.

"Are ya sure?" he whispered hoarsely into her ear. _Please, please, please be sure._

She smiled, she could feel the trembling of his body, how much he wanted this, how he _needed_ this, how he was holding back for her. She lifted her head slightly and took his ear lobe between her teeth – she tugged back gently and then moved back again, her lips caressing his ear. "_Fuck_ me Merle"

The dam more than burst – it shattered in a hundred different directions. Merle lowered his whole body into her, feeling all of her curves against him, shifting his knee so that it was pressed hard against hers and pushing. She obliged, widening her legs and lifting up her hips so that she grazed against his erection – the blood was roaring in his ears but he heard Dog's growl as he was kicked out of the way and smirked _fuckin' jealous mutt_.

Marion moved her hand down, pausing for only a moment to touch Dog's head in an attempt to quiet him as she found the throbbing member within his pants. He growled in response and his hand moved over her bare chest and underneath her tracksuit, ghosting over the patch of hair to where she was almost pulsing for him. She moaned as his fingers pushed against her, rotating the nub between his fingers. He moved his hand down, through folds of skin that were slick with desire and she all but pushed him inside her "Ya wet for me sugar?"

"All tha fuckin' time," she almost snarled and he groaned, sliding a large finger inside her. She gasped and then mewled as his finger moved in and then out and then in again – his thumb busy against her centre.

"Mere" she gasped and reached down to grab his hand, he raised his head – his stomach dropping past his feet. "That's not the part of you I want inside of me."

He smirked, pulling his hand out and licking his finger clean with relish. "Ya want all of ol' Merle do ya sugar?"

"Every bloody single inch," she assured him, her hands at his waist band. "In and out, over and over again," she panted.

Merle groaned, he was going to lose it if she kept on talking dirty like this. He flicked her hand away, carrying the movement a little to catch Dog who was still growling.

Dog recoiled but held his ground, growling.

"I'mma going to strangle tha mutt," muttered Merle, dragging his sweats down. Her hands found him then, grasping him firmly and dragging his skin back, flicking her thumb against his exposed tip. "Hell sugar!" he exclaimed, his body bucking. "Ya goin' ta 'ave ta save t'at sort o' t'in' for later t'night."

She chuckled and moved her hands up, dragging her nails over his exposed ribs and grinning in delight as he almost spasmed above her.

"Ya lit'le witch," he growled at her, capturing one hand and trapping it above her. "Ya goin' ta pay for t'at!"

"Promises, promises," she mocked, her eyes laughing at him through the curtain of lust.

He moved and kissed the grin off her face, releasing her hand so that he could grasp the edge of her tracksuit pants and drag them down, moving over to the other side and then back again. She lifted her hips for him and then her own hands took over the task – her body jerked as he returned to his previous occupation. "Ya like t'at do ya sugar?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yes you bloody redneck," she groaned, tipping her head back so that her throat was open for his mouth. "I fuckin' do!"

Her swearing was enough – he pulled his fingers out of her and moved so that his tip was feathering her warm and wet centre. Her thighs tightened around his hips and he paused.

"Ah – you forgetting something Merle?" she raised her brows.

_Fuck_ he thought. His own preference was to go without, but while he had never had any worries about one of his wenches leaving a baby on his doorstep, the situation was now slightly different. He reached over to his bag.

"In my pocket," she whispered.

He smirked and sat back, reaching into her pocket next to his knees to find the wrapper.

"Dog," Marion hissed as the animal's growl escalated into a bark.

Merle glared at the white spot just near Marion's waist as he reached across himself into her other pocket _seemed she hadn't planned everything perfectly then_.

"Dog!" Marion said again and reached her hand down to touch the animal's head. "It's ok – sit down!"

Dog barked again. "Hey!" snapped Marion and she flicked his rump with her finger. "Ow!" she exclaimed.

Merle jumped at her cry, turning to her 'he bit me!' and then to Dog who was standing with his hackles up. "Fuck!" he swore even as the first groan was heard through the canvas of the tent. He rocked back on his heels and stood, pulling his sweats over himself at the same time he reached for his knife and gun.

"Merle!" she yelled in warning and yanked him back as the tent bowed with the shape of a walker. She too had dragged up her pants and held her knife, the silver dragons glinting in the firelight, and crossbow – though she was just carrying that at the moment, it not being much use within the tent. She was however still naked on her top half and Merle filed that image away for later consideration as he whirled and fired the gun through the tent. The geek collapsed and the tent sagged – pulling the other side of the tent tight.

Dog whirled, barking madly at every direction.

"Fucker!" screamed Marion and lifted her arm to drive the knife through the head of walker shaped outline immediately behind her.

"Out!" ordered Merle and angled his hand so that the knife went through and down the fabric near the zipper, then changed the angle again so that the gun fired and shot the geek in the forehead. He surged out, blocking the approach of another geek with a stump to the throat, then spun to drive the knife into its skull. It slithered to the ground and there was a whoosh behind him, another thump. She came out of the tent fully then, Dog following her, still barking. Dog raced out of the firelight, if they had any spare time they would have seen him harassing a trio of geeks, nipping at their heels and distracting them from joining the other eight still advancing on the tent. Marion had made it to the fire where her sword was sitting – there was a sing of steel through the night air and a geek's head splurted off its body to bounce on the ground, then there was a splat as it crunched into the brain of a second geek. She dropped it then as it stuck, holding her knife like Merle had shown her and thrusting it into the geek's eye.

Merle kicked the knee of the geek and it folded, he swung down and stabbed it through the eye, whirling up in a smooth motion to slice through the neck of another geek before jabbing through the forehead of a third geek. He yanked the blade out and turned back to the geek whose head now hung by a string of flesh, his stab to the eye dislodging the head and dropping the body to the ground. He grimaced as he shook the head off his blade. He heard another whoosh and turned, seeing Marion bent over as she reloaded, covered in blood, and with a hopping run dashed over to where Dog was still dealing with two of them and shoved his knife into both.

Dog whined and dashed over to Marion who was still bent over, catching her breath. Merle sucked in some breaths, turning away from the fire and squinting out in the darkness, wondering how many more there might be out there. Dog whined again and he turned, his breath catching again but for an entirely different reason as she beheld her, the firelight flickering over her naked torso.

"Well sugar – shall we git back to where we was?" he suggested with a slight smirk.

She lifted her head and scoffed slightly. "I don't think so Merle."

He sighed. "I know tha geeks are a bit of a turnoff," he admitted. "But fuck woman you look hot standing there – I reckon I can git warmed up pretty fuckin' quick."

She shook her head again. "No Merle," her voice was a bit strained now.

"Alright, alright," he accepted. He glanced over at the tent. "We might sleep in the car t'night – wha' ya reckon?"

"Oh Merle," she straightened and moved her hand away from her forearm. Her voice broke a little, "I'm sorry."

And he saw that the blood wasn't from the geeks. It was from her. From a large bite mark in her arm.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Oblique reference to Dixon's Hope by GhostWritter84. Not that we know yet!


	59. Chapter 59

She slowly and very cautiously poked her head out of the hole she had been hiding in– wondering if all those people who had yelled at her had gone. They hadn't – they were all there.

Waiting.

There was a LOT of them (mental note: when next needing to up the review average – let lead character be dramatically injured in the middle of intercourse).

She cleared her throat "Hello," she tried a slight smile. "So I guess you're waiting for the end of the story?" She straightened, warming to her theme. "Merle stared for a moment, then he took four quick steps forward and put a bullet into her brain. Then he, Dog and Penny rode off and lived happily ever after."

_They _were not amused.

She crinkled her nose – there were quite a number of votes for the bite to have come from Dog, a few blood thirsty ones for amputation and a couple for a dream sequence. There was an overall majority for this NOT to be happening (and some pretty scary threats although she was feeling pretty safe from them given the _amount_ of water between) so she took a breath. "Ok then..."

Chapter 59

Marion heard him talking, full of himself as normal and her heart broke even as she looked into the wide brown eyes of Dog in front of her. The pain in her arm was searing but she figured that it was mostly psychological, it wasn't bleeding that much, it wasn't the actual wound that was the danger. "I don't think so Merle," she snorted – the irony was the real killer.

She heard him sigh; he was getting closer now, almost to where the fire's light would show him. She bit down on her lip, "No Merle," she tried to stop the tears that were about to burst forth.

"We might sleep in the car t'night – wha' ya reckon?" he suggested and she knew what he was hoping for in the morning. And she knew that it could never happen now. It broke her a little and a tear rolled down her cheek.

"Oh Merle," she breathed. _Why – why the hell did you wait Marion? _She straightened and moved her hand. "I'm sorry." _I'm so sorry – for everything I didn't tell you, that I didn't show you._

"No," he breathed, his eyes frozen to the spot on her arm where the bite was clearly visible – it stretched fully across her skin, a perfect impression of 30 teeth (_must have had top wisdom teeth removed _observed the analytical part of her mind) through skin and muscle. There had been little damage beyond that, her knife to its skull had prevented the closing of the mouth which would have otherwise resulted in the ripping and tearing. His eyes flicked back to hers and she saw them openly, without any shielding. She saw the pain, the anguish that erupted from them and her very being grieved for his pain. Then she saw the anger, the fury and she sobbed. Then she saw the resolution, the decision as he gripped his knife tighter.

_I love you Merle_ she thought, but she didn't say – there was no point in burdening him even further. Instead she offered him a slight smile and she closed her eyes, tipping her head slightly so that he would have a clear blow. She wondered if she really needed to ask him to look after Dog.

She felt his hand grasp her arm, then she felt warmth as he gripped her hand against him with his stump – then she felt a searing pain on top of the bite mark. She opened her eyes in shock and watched him slice another wound across her upper arm, the burning doubling with his motion. She had an idle thought that his knife was infected, but then the blood rushed out and she realised anything from the knife would disappear. He lowered his mouth towards her. She was too quick for him and reefed her arm away from him. "No Merle!"

"I can suck it out," he protested, reaching for her again.

"No Merle – you'll get infected as well," she told him.

He shook his head. "Did t'is for Daryl when he got bit by a snake, it'll work," he reached for her again.

"This isn't venom Merle – this is a virus. You'll get as much through your mouth as if you'd been bitten," she told him, pressing her hand to the bleeding wounds. "Don't do that to me, please."

"Damn it woman!" he swore and snatched her hand away. "Ya got ta git it outta ya system!"

"It's too late for that," she said sadly even as the rivers of blood dripped down her arm.

"I could cut it off," he said and she shivered at the dullness of his tone.

"It wouldn't work Merle," she took her lip between her teeth, her hand still held in his. His mouth opened and she continued, "It bit me through the tent."

Merle's grip slackened as he took in the significance of that statement. Through the tent – it might have been an hour ago or it might have been five minutes ago – it didn't matter. The way she had been moving – the virus was well and truly in her system now. He watched the blood flow over her fingers to the pool on the ground and turned abruptly, leaning into the tent – his mouth drying as his eyes passed over the bed where only a little time before they had been... He snatched his belt from the ground and strode back to her.

She winced as he tightened the belt around her arm, slowing the blood loss. She sat down while he grabbed the lantern and started searching through the boxes, her bloody hand buried in Dog's coat while he licked at her arm which was still bleeding sluggishly from the two wounds. Merle came back and plopped down next to her, passing her a bottle of water and grabbing her arm and setting it against his chest – still bare and slightly sweaty – as he wrapped a bandage about it. "Drink" he commanded, "and pop t'ese."

She obeyed, taking a couple of gulps of water with the pills, knowing that anti-biotics were unlikely to work against the virus unless by some amazing coincidence the two structures matched exactly. "It might be better to let me bleed out," she looked at him with a slightly hazy glance.

"I ain't fuckin' letting you die," he growled.

"I'm going to die Merle," she managed, her voice thick with tears.

"Don't fuckin' say that!" he yelled, standing and taking several quick steps in a circle. He came back down to her again; his expression fierce – an expression which would have been terrifying except she knew that it was born of fear. "Ya goin' ta fight t'is – ya hear me?"

"Merle," she placed her hand on his forearm, feeling the tension radiating off him. "Please – we made a deal."

He bent his head over the top of her hand, his forehead touching her arm. She felt him shuddering and her eyes filled with tears – she bent over him, burying her forehead into his neck. His arm came up and grabbed her around the neck, pulling her to him. Dog whined, pushing his cold nose in between them.

The tears came then "I'm so sorry Merle, I'm so sorry," she sobbed.

"T'ere ain't not'in' ta be sorry for sugar," he choked out, wrapping both arms around her. "It's my fuckin' fault. I didn't..."

"No Merle!" she straightened but stopped short of actually placing her hand over his mouth. "It is not your fault – you were the one who wanted to keep watch remember. I was the one..." her voice choked off as she remembered why she hadn't wanted him to leave her alone. "If only..." she whispered.

_Story of my fucking life_, thought Merle, holding her against his chest. He felt her slump a little "Marion, Marion!" he grabbed her by her shoulders and shook. "Ya stay wit' me bitch you 'ear me? You stay wit' me!"

Her head was going woozy now; she could hear him through a thick fog only. "I'm dying Merle," she whispered. "Please – remember our deal."

"I remember it sugar," he assured her, watching as her head lolled back against his shoulder. "But you ain't dying." _Not here anyway._

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Marion was conscious of movement; she could feel his footsteps vibrate through the ground as he moved around. _Building a fire for her_ she wondered, moving her hand slightly against Dog's side. There was a wet nose planted against her neck, he was curled as close to her as he could get. Then he was gone and she felt the loss keenly, the little dog had taken up so much significance in her life, he had filled her heart when it had been almost entirely emptied. But then there was another warmth, under her legs and behind her shoulders, then her head was resting on something warm with a comforting beat. She sighed and tried to move her hand to explore the warmth, but her hand wasn't listening to her anymore. Then the warmth was gone and she was lying on a cold surface, not the ground, it was softer than that – and Dog was back, huddled into the curve of her hips, then there was a warmth under her head, and then one on her waist which left her every now and again but which always came back to her.

"Marion?" Merle moved his stump against her neck, sighing in relief when he felt a steady, if weakened pulse. He felt Dog's eyes on him and he spared a glance to the animal. "She'll be ok Dog – she'll be ok." _She had to be ok_. He shoved the car into gear and stepped on the pedal – there was a brief moment when the car almost vibrated on the spot, the wheels spinning in the dirt and grass. Then the tyres caught and the car roared off, leaving behind the sad looking tent half propped up surrounded by the bodies of geeks under the light of the dying fire.

She wasn't aware of sleeping; time had lost its relativity for her and sort of blended in a haze. She opened her eyes every now and again – seeing his silhouette against the lights from the dash, the sky which still managed a slight lightness despite the absence of a moon. His profile was unmoving, his left hand stretched out straight against the wheel, his face turned forward. He didn't look at her and she sighed, closing her eyes.

_It would work_ of that he was almost confident. The amount of blood that had dripped to the ground; he had cut deep, almost to the bone, both at the site of the wound and at the top of her arm. _It would work_ he nodded to himself. But she had lost a lot of blood – she needed a place that she could rest, where he could get clean water for her, had easy access to good food – protein. _That was why he was taking her back there._

There was more light in the sky when she opened her eyes again, she could make out the slight stubble on his face, she wondered whether she had gravel rash on her face _or other areas_ and almost she smiled. He was looking ahead, but he must have caught some hint of movement because he looked down – for a moment she had a clear view of those hypnotic blue eyes. He said something _well his lips moved _but she faded away again and didn't hear him _he was angry at her_ was her last thought.

"Marion!" he almost shouted as he saw her eyes, the dark brown orbs only visible because of the light reflecting off them. "Stay wit' me – ya 'ere me? We're almost t'ere – ya stay wit' me!" He moved his stump again, his foot lifting off the pedal for those terrible few seconds until he was able to find her heartbeat. It was slower than before and he pushed his foot harder to the floor, watching as the needle moved up into the red. _Trying to git yaself killed Redneck? _asked a voice quietly. _That's be the easy way out. _"Fuck off," he snapped – not in the mood for philosophical discussions, even imaginary ones. Dog lifted his head and whined slightly, Merle reached over and touched the animal's head. "It'll be alright." He slowed back down, looking either side of the lights' beam to try and see any geeks that may wander onto the road.

She awoke when the car stopped and lay there frowning. Her arm was on fire, pain radiating up from two points in her arm, throbbing to the beat of her heart. There was a burst of cold air on her face and her head was moved with such gentleness that she smiled. She opened her eyes and blinked a little in the sunlight, her eyes slow to adjust. A movement behind caught her attention and she looked – it took a second for her brain to catch up with her eyes and then a bit longer to focus. By then he was back out of the car and she looked out the car door, frowning slightly and trying to make sense of what she saw.

Merle hopped back into the car, reaching down to lift her head onto his leg and froze, seeing her eyes open. She smiled up at him and he smiled back, relief giving his face a freedom he didn't normally allow it. "Hey sugar," he murmured.

"Hey," she tried to whisper but nothing more than a ghost of a voice came out.

"Just anot'er minute or so," he promised and slid his leg under her head. He didn't bother pulling the door shut, but drove the car forward and parked next to the side of the building, making sure that the car was out of sight of the road. He would go and padlock the gate shortly – he had no qualms letting other people use the building in their absence, but dammed if he was _sharing it_. He lowered Marion's head once more and rounded the back of the truck, pausing for a few moments to open the box where the medicine was and pulling out a couple of bottles, placing them on the roof of the truck. He opened her door and leaned in, cupping her under the shoulders, sliding her out so that her legs dangled off the seat either side of his legs and then lifted her up.

Her head almost collapsed into his chest. He turned slightly and reached for the bottle of the water, grimacing as he fought the lid with his fingers and finally offered it to her. She reached up her hands to take the bottle, but he kept a hold of it as she tipped it to drink.

"How're ya feelin'?" he asked cautiously.

"Like I've been run over by a herd of cattle," she replied, releasing the bottle and leaning her head back against his chest. She frowned slightly at the deep vee showing off her chest, struggling with concept of that much bare skin and the relative comfort until she finally worked out that she was wearing one of his shirts.

Relief made him smile again – one at her response and two at the hint of acerbity in her tone. "Wha' 'bout ya arm?"

"Killing me," she groaned, then winced slightly at her choice of wording.

Merle's teeth gritted but he balanced her against him as he reached up again, using his teeth this time to open both containers of pills and shaking a couple of pills from each. He picked them up in his fingers and held it against her mouth. "'ere – this'll 'elp."

Marion opened her mouth and sucked the pills off his hand, then obediently swallowed some more water. She shook her head and pulled away slightly as he tried to push her to drink more. "No more Merle."

"Drink," he insisted. "Ya got ta make up for yar lost blood."

"I'll burst," she complained but the bottle didn't move so she sighed and took another couple of mouthfuls before she literally hid her face in his chest.

Merle sighed, looking at the bottle. She'd lost more blood than she'd drunk water. He looked down at her, slumped within his arm, her forehead against his sternum. He placed the bottle back on the truck and then reached down to catch her under the arm, heaving her to her feet. "Come on woman, give me a bit of a 'and."

"Boom boom," she murmured, but attempted to brace her legs a bit more and take some of her weight off him. It was a losing battle though – upright her head was pounding with the force of the seven dwarves' hammers. She kept her eyes closed and tried to follow his guide as to where to step. She heard a curse and all of a sudden her legs were swept out from underneath her and she found herself horizontal. He pulled her close to his chest and she laid her head against his shoulder, her forehead against his neck, feeling his pulse against her nose. She felt him balance her against him, his upper body leaning back and his stump moving further up her back, his other arm keeping some contact with her shoulders as he reached forward. He wobbled a bit and she tried to tighten her arm around his neck to take some of the burden off him, but it wasn't responding like it should. His arm came back around her, his hand brushing her breast as it wrapped under her arm to hold against her ribcage. She saw the doorway and smiled despite herself "Oh – how romantic," she whispered.

"Stop it woman," he ordered her, but she could see the slight upwards tip of his lips as he said it. He carried her through the room, carefully turning so he didn't clunk her head on the doorway. He lay her down on the bed that she had left open for airing _was it only the day before?_ and pulled the sheet and blanket up and over her. Dog jumped up and settled himself between her arm and body, his nose resting just above her underarm. He turned and went back to the car, dropping her bag on the ground near her in case she needed something and putting the pills on the bedside table. He opened the bottle again and lifting her head with his stump tried to give her a little bit more water. She took half a sip, but then turned her head away. He frowned, but released her head and put the bottle next to the pills.

"Watch over her," he commanded Dog and after another glance at her he stood. He hesitated, then leaned in and kissed her gently on the forehead. Then he walked out.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Little link to S3, Ep1 – just for the fun of it. Oblique reference to Down in the Willow Garden by Praxid – I'm not going to say how because you need to read the story and experience its awesomeness for yourself. Also belated acknowledgement to BigPinkStork for Elwood (sorry, got a bit carried away with C57 & C58 and forgot my manners).


	60. Chapter 60

Chapter 60

She was half asleep, but she felt his lips on her skin and she thought she smiled. "Merle" she breathed. She felt Dog settle in, his muzzle resting on her arm.

It was some time later that she woke. She shivered and tried to roll over, but the pain that jarred her body made her reconsider. She lifted her head and then reconsidered that as well as the dwarves started up again. There was a thump thump and she changed her view, smiling at Dog who was approximately 2.5cm away from her face. She moved her hand slightly to give him a pat and was rewarded by a wet tongue on her chin. She grinned and pulled away, waiting until his head settled back down before turning again, reaching out her hand to grasp the bottle of water on the table. It was a large bottle and mostly full, she spilled a bit down on herself before she managed to get it to her mouth, she drank as if parched and then just held it against her mouth for a bit, letting the water wash around her mouth. She spilled it a bit again as she pulled it away, placing it on the table, but Dog licked the drops of water off her skin.

The water gave her some clarity and she looked around the room, recognising the features – focusing on the picture of Christ across the room. It was one of her favourites, Christ in a green field surrounded by white sheep, one black sheep amongst them, and holding a lamb. It was set in a pretty tacky gold frame and hung slightly crookedly. She remembered having been given one of those for her Confirmation – she had found it later in life and hung it up over Rachel's bed when she had moved to her own room, the crib made by her husband from the bed _her_ father had made _her_. Jenny had then slept underneath it when Rachel had moved out of the crib. She tried to remember the other presents that she'd been given for Confirmation and smiled – she wasn't sure but perhaps the Footprints prayer had been a gift. It hadn't been anything special either – a laminated piece of cardboard that she stuck to the wall using blutack with a simple picture of footprints in the sand. The exact words eluded her, but she remembered the general premise.

"Are you carrying me now Lord?" she whispered, "Or am I walking alone?"

A sudden desire hit her and she reached up to grasp the edge of the blanket, Dog startled out of his position with a slight yelp. She groaned as she sat up, the dwarves leaping in harmony with the entire Riverdance ensemble. She stood slowly and carefully, swaying slightly and struggling to hold the blackness to only the edge of her vision. Her toes touched something and she looked down, seeing her bag. She looked around further but saw nothing else and carefully she turned. Five steps got her to the doorway and she grabbed at it thankfully, resting her forehead against it. Dog whined from her feet and she offered him a wan smile, "I'm ok Dog." She straightened and slowly stepped out.

"Merle?" she called. There was no response and she staggered slightly, reaching out to the table. It was empty of anything except her note and the vase. She took another couple of steps and looked out the window. There was no car. She struggled another couple of steps and reached for the door handle. It was locked.

He'd gone.

He'd left her.

"Oh Dog," she moaned. "Why didn't you go with him?"

She didn't blame him for leaving her there – despite the deal that they had made. She had to admit if the situation had been reversed she wasn't entirely sure whether she would have been able to follow through. _He could have taken Dog though_. She took a deep breath. "So I guess we're alone again are we Dog?"

He thumped his tail at her and she smiled at him. A shiver racked through her and she almost folded in two. She straightened herself with some effort and turned back a couple of steps, reaching into the cutlery drawer. The knife wasn't nearly as sharp as her own dagger, but she didn't know where that was. _He could have left a gun_ she thought, grasping the blade and casting her eyes around the room looking for a logistical solution. _It's a sin_ said another voice. _Let's hope that Hell has no vacancies and Heaven is taking the overflow_ she decided; she would not allow herself to turn into one of them. Dog whined again and she looked down at him – the lock was old fashioned and without the key she couldn't open the door _so how was he going to get out?_ She reached over and dragged a chair against the sink, then stabbed the blade against the screen in the window. There was a pop and her hand went through, she used the blade to clean it out.

"Here Dog," she patted the chair and he bounced up. "When you need to go out..."

There was a sudden bang as the old sash in the window suddenly decided to give out and the window slammed shut.

"Crap," she swore, her head thumping so much that her vision pulsed. _Dog couldn't get out that_ she thought, thinking that even if she opened the window again, even if she braced it, something might happen that stopped Dog getting out. She thought for a moment and then reversed the blade in her hand and slammed the butt against the glass. There was a pop and a crack, she pulled her hand back and hit it again – there as a smash and she felt a sharp pain in her hand. She turned the knife again and cleaned out the pane, then swept the few shards that had come inwards into the sink.

"There you go," she said in satisfaction. She knew that he wouldn't leave her, not until the last minute, but at least he now had a way out. There wasn't much around, but perhaps he could make it to the farm where Merle had found the livestock. She wished she'd asked Merle to take Dog there once, so he knew the direction to go but then her mouth quirked as she imagined the reaction she would have received had she suggested it– from both of them.

She turned around again, blinking as she tried to focus her eyes. The oven caught her eye, the way the door handle was close to the dials for the stovetop. She glanced at the knife in her hand, then at the oven handle again. She reached down with her other hand and pulled the clean t-towel that she had placed there only yesterday. She took the few steps towards the over falteringly; another shiver racked her. She turned the blade around and jammed it against the oven, in between the handle and the slight protrusion that the dials were on. The knife stuck out at least 10cm _far enough._ She stuffed the t-towel into the gap, stabilising the blade – this was one thing that she didn't want to stuff up.

There was a chime down the hall and she paused, reminded of the reason she had got out of bed to start with. Merle had wanted to throw the clock through the wall after the first night because the gentle tone had been enough to wake him up at midnight, before dawn and then at 6am. She'd dissuaded him from that and had studied it, oddly comforted by the thought of a clock that observed the Catholic prayer rituals. Merle had been incredulous of a clock that didn't actually tell the time and he had removed the batteries before the second night. She hadn't felt right leaving the church empty of its comforting sound, so she'd replaced them and reset the clock before they'd left. The tone that sounded now, if she remembered correctly as she looked at the watch on her hand, was the Sext _a word to say very very carefully while in church!_ She didn't know the required observance at this hour, but she found the pull towards the church palpable as the tones echo died off. She could imagine Father Derek, if he wasn't otherwise occupied with parish business, shuffling down the hallway, perhaps to an empty church, perhaps to a few devout followers.

There was absolute silence in the church, it would have been eerie anywhere else but her she found it peaceful. She lowered herself to her knees at the front of the Sanctuary. _Five minutes_ she decided, feeling another shiver vibrate through her body. _Just five minutes_.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

_So ya running are ya brother?_

"Ain't fuckin' runnin'," he snarled, as the knife slid into the eye socket of the geek. He dragged it out with a sucking sound and drove the knife up through the jaw of the second geek even as it reached out towards him.

_Getting yourself killed isn't running?_

"Only a Dixon can kill a Dixon," grunted Merle, ducking clumsy grab of another geek, slamming his boot down on the body as it overbalanced and landed on the ground.

_Exactly what do you think you're doing then? You haven't slept..._

It had taken him all night to drive back to the church. What had been seven hours of driving in the daylight had still taken him that time in the dark, even though they had cleared the road blocks. He had been unable to get up any decent speed, having to dodge several times around shambling figures of isolated geeks as well as the odd large animal.

_... you've found the biggest 'glitch' of geeks..._

The geeks had followed the truck off the road during the morning. He'd lost the majority of them through the streets as he'd sped his way to the church, but by the time he'd gotten Marion settled, locked the door and then the gate, there was a few front runners sniffing around the wall of dead bodies trying the figure out where they'd gone. He'd dispatched them easy enough and had then driven the truck back towards the glitch, beeping the horn and yelling at them until, en masse, they had turned and followed him. It had taken him a few hours; the glitch was growing tired with all this walking with no reward and was tending to relapse into suspended animation. He'd left the car several times, getting up close and personal, killing some and exciting the others.

_...got yourself surrounded like a greenhorn ..._

Merle turned and slammed his stump into the throat of the geek nearest to him and moving quickly through the space that was made. He'd cut it close this time, he backed up hurriedly, sweeping out with his knife to clear a path through the converging geeks and jogged back to the car. He drove the knife up through the throat of the geek and sat in the seat, hitting the accelerator at the same time as he flung the car into gear.

_...and you have a chicken in the tray._

"Fuck" swore Merle, looking quickly in the mirror to check the distance to the following geeks. He opened the door and reached over to pull the tarp off Penny's cage. She had the look of being broiled; she was panting as if parched and her wings were out from her body in an effort to keep cool but she looked at him alert enough so he returned to the driver's seat to move the car forward again.

_That is the definition of running. The same as ya always do._

"I ain't never run in me life," snarled Merle.

_Hah! That's a load of horseshit. Ya ain't stopped running since Mama lit out._

"She didn't light out," snapped Merle. "She 'ad ta leave us – she woulda come back for us if she could 'ave."

_Ya mean she would have come back for her little baby?_

Merle slammed on the brakes, opening the door and taking his rage out on some geeks that had closed off his access point. "She loved me as well ya prick."

_Only woman who ever did._

Merle had no comeback to that. He slammed the knife into another eye socket and returned to the car, the tyres screaming.

_So now you're back to running._

"I ain't never run from anyt'in'," he repeated, but in a lower voice this time, watching the glitch in the rearview and side mirrors.

_The Marines weren't running? Taking out that non-com wasn't running? Snorting anything you could get ya hands on wasn't running?_ There was a derisive sniff. _When did you ever show some responsibility? And now you're leaving her._

"I aint leaving her," he snarled. "I'm making her safe." _She needed time, she needed to be looked after._

_How the fuck are ya going to look after her?_

"I looked after you baby brother – since the day ya was born."

_Ya never took care of me! You talked the big game but ya was never there._

"Ya don't know wha' tha fuck ya talkin' 'bout," snarled Merle. "Ya don't know how many beatin's I took for ya, how often I took Pa away from ya, how many times I took tha blame for somet'in' ya did."

_So ya saved me a beatin' or two – outta thousands,_ snorted the voice. _Ya been this long with the woman and ya _still _thing that is what I needed from my big brother? Ya reckon killin' geeks that are miles away from her is what she needs?_

He sighed. He knew his internal _pussy _voice was right. He was avoiding her, he felt so damn guilty. _The fuckin' dog had tried to warn him – he'd been so horny though, he'd just assumed that the mutt was jealous. _She was going to be fine, he was sure of it _wasn't he? _ He'd left her alone for a few hours now. _She was hurting, scared and he'd left her all alone. _He took one more glance behind him, the geeks were still shambling along behind him – he pressed the pedal down harder.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

The curtain was flapping at the window as he drove in, he looked at it as he parked the car and made his way to the tank to wash off the blood and gore from the geeks, carrying Penny. She drained the first batch of water he gave her and he refilled her bowl before carrying her out to the vegetable patch and releasing her. She clucked at him reproachfully. "Fuck off," he muttered slightly defensively. He walked back to the car to grab his rifle and that was when he noticed that the curtain was flapping _through_ the window. His blood froze. "Marion" he yelled, water still dripping from him as he ran to the door. He pushed at it – it was still locked and he fumbled with the key until he finally managed to get it open.

He saw the knife – balanced against the stove, blood all over it. "Marion!" he yelled again, running around the table and towards the bedroom. Even as he saw it was empty, the blanket and sheet pushed back and cascading to the ground he heard a bark. He turned and ran down the hallway, almost ripping the curtain off the hook as he swept it aside.

"Woman," he groaned as he saw her, crumpled in a heap at the foot of the steps. Dog looked up from his position next to Marion's face and whined. Merle took the couple of steps forward and knelt down beside her, almost hesitantly reaching over her shoulder to her neck – he breathed a sigh of relief when he felt her pulse. Then he frowned, she felt hot to touch. _She lost a lot of blood_ he thought to himself and reached down to pick her up.

"Merle," she moaned and he paused, looking down at her face. Her eyes were still closed.

"I'm here sugar," he whispered and pushed his hands underneath her.

"I thought you left," she whispered.

"Just 'ad ta deal wit' some stuff," he assured her.

"We had a deal," she complained.

He flinched, lifting her and pulling her close to his chest. "Ya ain't goin' ta die woman – ya hear me. I said ya ain't goin' ta die."

"You're always ordering me around," she grumbled.

He snorted. "Fuckin' pot callin' tha kettle black."

"Don't," she murmured and he stopped, halfway through the curtain.

"Ya need ta be in bed woman, not on some fuckin' cold floor," he groused.

"Please?" Her hand reached out to the doorframe and he frowned at the fresh blood on it.

"Ya ain't goin' ta die," he repeated.

Her lips twitched up, but her eyes remained closed. "OK – _I'll _believe you – thousands wouldn't, but I _will_. But," she added around his disbelieving grunt. "I want to be here – please?"

"Ya'll git sick sittin' on the floor," he grumbled, but turned back into the church.

"Put me on the pew," she requested.

Merle looked at the hard wooden pews with distaste but lowered her down onto one, his teeth gritting as an involuntary moan escaped her lips as her body protested. He angled her into the corner, having doubts as to whether she'd be able to hold herself up. Dog jumped up onto the seat, laying his front paws and head onto her lap – her hand moved weakly to entangle in his coat. "Ya t'irsty?" he asked quietly.

"As a camel," she nodded slightly.

But she was asleep by the time he brought back the bottle of water and pills.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

My Catholic education is (now obviously!) sadly lacking – I wouldn't even have known about Vespers, Matins and Lauds except for the Brother Cadfael books (and again I offer you an insight into the disturbing paradox that is my mind) so I had to search Wikipedia. Have no idea whether such a clock does exist though.


	61. Chapter 61

The word fluffy wouldn't be in my description of this chapter, but I hope it gives you some understanding of where the Marion that we all know (and love apparently) comes from.

Chapter 61

"Marion," the voice almost sung, drawing out her name. "Marion," the voice came through the fog. For a moment she struggled to get out of it, to follow that voice. But the fog was deep and she felt so comfortable in it. The voice sharpened, its timbre changing a little. "Babe – you can't sleep there."

Marion lifted her head from the kitchen bench and smiled at the intense blue eyes on the other side. "Want to bet?" She was exhausted. Rachel was not the best of patients, always needing something – water, blankets on, blankets off, cold cloth, hot water bottle, her mother's undivided attention. Marion didn't begrudge her any of it, she was obviously wretchedly sick; the cough that she had developed a couple of days ago had morphed into a full blown fever with body wracking chills and sudden bursts of heat. She had finally subsided into sleep as the sun was coming up and Marion had eased herself out of bed, leaving Jenny curled up on the other side. She had looked longingly at where her husband slept, but knew that Jenny would be up soon and if her first destination of the kitchen yielded nothing then she would head straight to her parents' room and wake both of them, so she had gone to the kitchen for a cup of chocolate and started to prepare some pikelets for breakfast.

"Go to bed," he told her. "I'll watch over her."

She shook her head "We need more milk." His eyes danced at her and she poked her tongue out at him. "I tell you if I have to listen to one more story about that woman's _perfect niece Alex and how hard she works at that school_," her voice mimicked the slightly wavery voice of Mrs Andrews, the manager of the _Palace_, "I might just say something entirely inappropriate. Plus," she added with some spirit, "that little rat pack she calls dogs are evil – that friggin' Pookie Teacup is just itching to bite me."

Ben laughed at her, "I'll get the milk and _then_ you're heading off to bed – ok?"

"Thanks gorgeous," she smiled. He leaned over the bench and she kissed him, his beard scratching her skin.

"I'll be back in a bit – if Pookie Teacup doesn't get me," he added cheekily and shut the door before the balled up t-towel could fly through the air.

Marion snorted and started tidying up the mess surrounding the cooking of the pikelets. She boiled the jug again in anticipation of the milk that he would bring back and picked up her mug and gave it a quick rinse to remove the dregs of the last chocolate.

Marion heard the groan and frowned, placing the cup back down on the bench. "Rachel – honey are you ok?" she called, stepping out of the kitchen towards the bedroom. Another moan sounded and her step faltered "Rachel? " She called out again as a figure limped towards her, stepping into the light – the front of her shirt soaked in blood. "Rachel honey – what happened darling – did you have a nosebleed?" she stepped forward out of the kitchen, stepping sideways to see what mess had been made in the bedroom. She saw the blood on the floor first; it was trailed from where Rachel had walked. _That's a lot of blood_ she thought with some sudden unease. Her eyes followed it backwards to the bed _not Rachel's_ and she saw the body in the sheets. Her mouth opened in a scream and she turned back to Rachel, seeing the blood centred around her mouth, the blue eyes in which the light had been turned off, the pale skin, hearing the unearthly groan as what used to be her daughter walked towards her.

_What the hell?_ her mind and body both froze. Instinct warred with instinct – the mother in her wanted to rush to her daughters, to comfort them, to hold them tight to her. Fear was making her want to scream again, to turn tail and run from the horror that was still approaching her. Her mind recovered first deciding that whatever _that_ was, _it_ was not her daughter, that _it _had ripped her other daughter's throat out, that _it_ had now turned _its_ attention to her. She backed up hurriedly, the thing that was Rachel growled at her, reaching out with _its_ hands and all but snapping _its_ teeth at her. Marion hit the kitchen bench with her next step and faltered _what was she meant to do now? _ Instinct won again – she grabbed _its _hands as they reached out to her, struggling to hold the snarling face away from her. Rachel was quite tall for her age and was only shorter by half a head, Marion was normally still much stronger than her but _the thing_ seemed to have found some vast pool of strength and _it_ started to overwhelm her.

"Ben!" she screamed as _its _breath hissed against her face; she turned her head away desperately and _it _diverted _its_ attention to the frantic pulsing in her neck.

The door slammed open – Ben took one glance at the scene in front of her and dived forward, wrapping his arm around his daughter's chest and bodily lifting her away from Marion. "What the hell?" he demanded, his blue eyes wide as he stared at her.

Marion's mouth opened – but too late. _Its _mouth opened and latched onto Ben's arm, _its_ teeth digging in and reefing a large chunk of flesh from his arm, struggling with a piece of muscle. "No!" screamed Marion even as Ben yelled in pain and threw his daughter away from him. _It _hit the wall with a thud and slid to the ground, moaning a little, blood and flesh draping from _its_ mouth. "Ben," sobbed Marion and ran over to where he had staggered back against the wall, his other hand pressed hard against the wound in his arm, blood pulsing through his fingers. "Ben," she said again, breathing heavily and cupped his face with her hand.

"Move!" he said abruptly and pushed her to the side as _it _came at them again, groaning. He placed his hand directly into _its _chest, pushing it back bodily – _it _put _its_ head down and tried to bite again; he moved his hand to under _its_ throat and shoved back. _It _came again relentlessly, snarling at him.

Marion stared in horror at the sight of the body of her daughter attacking her husband, taking whatever he inflicted on _it_ as if it was nothing. He was bleeding heavily; she could see it pouring out his arm. As she watched she saw him take a backward step, sick to his soul from punching his daughter. She screamed for help and in the distance she heard some answering shouts. She looked around for something, anything that might help and spotted the saucepan that she had just finished washing. She took a couple of steps and picked it up, then with a deep breath she stepped forward and slammed it across the head of _the thing_.

Newton's law still applied – _its _head snapped to the side and the body followed it, crumpling to the ground. Ben looked up from where he'd fallen, his eyes wide with terror, shock and pain. His eyes widened and she turned, swinging the saucepan again. There was a dull sound, _the thing _staggered somewhat, but growled and reached out again – Marion swung the saucepan again, there was a breaking sound and both wrists folded in on themselves. _It _didn't slow down, leaning in with _its _face to bite. Marion stepped back, tears streaming down her face, and swung at _its _head. This time the saucepan tilted slightly in her hands and with a crunch the edge pushed through the skull and squelched through brain.

_It _folded in two and collapsed to the ground.

Marion sobbed for breath, the saucepan still held in her hand as she stared at the body in front of her. There was a movement to her side and she whirled, the saucepan held up like a cricket bat. She relaxed slightly, smiling at Larry as he hovered in the doorway – a big bear of a man with almost as much hair and dressed in the stereotypical flannelette shirt which he'd left open due to the heat.

"Are ya bit?" he demanded and she frowned, straightening. _What a question._

"No," she managed. "But Ben is... and Jenny is..." her voice broke a little. "Can you call a doctor please?" she took a step forward.

Larry recoiled and she froze as suddenly he was wielding a gun in her face _where the hell had that come from_. "Ya stay right there," he ordered, the gun shaking just a shade as he pointed it at her.

"Larry!" exclaimed Ben from his position on the floor. "Put that bloody thing away."

"Sorry pal," Larry shook his head, letting one hand go from the gun and reaching for the door. "There's nothing I can do fer ya – sorry."

"Larry!" Marion screeched as the door shut behind his remorseful face. "Help me!" But the door remained shut even when she pulled at it.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle snapped awake with her words, straightening from where he'd slumped against the pew. He stood and leaned over her, "Marion!" She didn't say anything more though, although her mouth opened in a bit of a moan. Dog whined from his position next to her and thumped his tail cautiously. Merle reached over and felt Marion's forehead, his teeth gritting as he felt the fire under his fingers. Her skin was dry under his fingers, she was badly dehydrated. _She's dying_ said a voice sympathetically in his ear. "No she ain't," he refused to believe that. _He'd cut it, he'd bled it out of her._ "Ya 'ear me woman? Ya ain't dying!"

She _was_ going to die if he didn't get some water into her. He reached down and picked up the water bottle, holding it under his stump to undo the lid and then carefully trickling the water into her slightly open mouth. It trickled straight back out again and he cursed. He reached down and gently pulled her mouth open, but as soon as he let it go her mouth closed back up again. "Fuck!" he yelled, cursing the fact that he only had one hand. He looked around; the church offered him nothing which could help him. _Woman's going to die because you couldn't wait_ observed a voice.

"Wouldn't met her if I 'ad waited," he snarled. _And perhaps that was the real kicker. _He looked down at her face, she had none of her normal peacefulness while she slept, her face held a hint of a frown. He'd accepted her request to stay in the church but had turned one of the pews around and then 'remodelled' a third _and he would welcome the tongue lashing she would give him when she saw it _and slid it between two of them. The resultant arrangement was just large enough for the priest's mattress and though he had nearly knocked the clock off the wall bringing it through, he had set the mattress on top of them. She was lying flat on her back on it now, the sheets only just lifting up and down with her breaths, far too fast and too shallow compared to her normal rhythm. He'd sewed up her arm as well as he could with the priest's sewing kit, not allowing himself to read too much into the fact that she hardly moved through the entire process, even when he dabbed peroxide on her. Dog whined again and he looked over, dropping a hand that almost engulfed Dog's head on top of him. "She'll be fine Dog, just fine."

A thought struck him. He lifted a leg up and over the pew, arranging himself so that he was lying next to her and sliding his stump under her head. He took a mouthful of water and then carefully put the bottle aside – he gently clasped her chin and pulled her mouth open. He placed his lips over hers and slowly let the water trickle from his mouth into hers. For a moment he was afraid that it wouldn't work, that she wouldn't swallow. But her reflexes were still intact and her throat moved slightly. He lifted his head and studied her – her eyes were moving in agitation behind her lids. He reached for the bottle of pills and took one out, crushing it between his fingers. He tipped the powder of it and another three into the water, the tipped the bottle back into his mouth and lowered his lips to hers again.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"You can't blame them gorgeous," Ben pressed his lips against her forehead.

"Bullshit I can't," she snapped, pulling away from his embrace. "Those arseholes are standing outside our door with _guns_."

Ben smiled at her indignation, knowing that she did understand, that when her emotion had faded she would allow her sense to come to the forefront and then probably would feel guilty. _Guilt was her speciality_ he thought and pulled her back to him. He'd moved _the thing_ from the room after Marion had wrapped his arm the best she could with what they had with them but neither of them could look at that section of blood spattered wall and the saucepan which still lay on the ground. They'd covered Jenny up with a sheet and pulled the door closed, although it had a defective latch so Marion had used a shoe to brace it almost closed so that they didn't have to look at them. The outside door had remained locked despite her entreaties for medical help, medical supplies or someone to help them with their daughters.

They'd finally turned on the tv – something that they had avoided for the entire trip. They'd watched with horror as the appalling images of people eating people, people walking through a hail of bullets, people not blinking as they were saturated with pepper spray went on some sort of sick entertainment loop. The pictures were interrupted every now and again by a serious anchorman detailing the latest casualty figures or a perky blond shouting into a microphone behind troops of national guard sweeping through a building. There had been a consistent message though 'don't get bitten'. They'd turned it off after a few hours and sat in silence on the couch, Ben's arm bandaged and wrapped around her shoulders, her head on his chest.

"They think we brought this on them," he added.

"Pfft," she sniffed. "_We _brought this on _them_? Not judging by the line at the doctor's when we got here."

"They're just protecting their own," he soothed.

"What so just because we're not yanks we get left out in the cold?" she demanded at his chin. "How about showing us some bloody humanity?"

"Fear makes even good people do funny things babe – you know that."

She snorted. "Next holiday – let's go to Cradle instead."

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "You're going to have to get in shape for that babe – I'm not carrying you up it."

She smacked him on the chest and chuckled with him, both of them happy to pretend at the moment what they both knew wouldn't be happening.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Cradle Mountain is a lovely spot in Tasmania – perfect for that romantic getaway or say, for a honeymoon.


	62. Chapter 62

Still not much fluff in this one, perhaps a tissues may be required for those sensitive souls or those who are hormonal if I have done it right.

Chapter 62

_She was dying_ he thought. She'd been hot before, she'd pushed away from him and she'd pushed at the blankets, she'd even pushed Dog away. He'd gotten up to open the door, to let some cool breeze in even as he'd placed a wet cloth on her head and then wiped her chest down with another wet cloth. Then she'd gone cold and even though he'd shut the doors and piled blankets onto her, she'd still shivered. Finally he had stripped off his shirt and climbed in next to her, undoing the buttons on _his _shirt and pulled her bare chest next to his. She had quieted with that and he'd lain there sweating while she had slept. She was hot again now and was pushing against him. He sighed and rolled his way off the mattress and over the pew. He pulled his shirt back on as he walked down to the door, pushing it open to allow the cold evening air in.

He should be hungry. He hadn't eaten the whole day. But he had no appetite. He should probably feed Dog though – at least throw him a bone.

The burst of wind that came in fluttered through a pile of prayer cards, one landing on his foot and he reached over to pick it up.

"_The Apostle Saint Jude Thaddeus is "The Miraculous Saint," the Patron Saint of "lost causes" and "cases despaired of." When all other avenues are closed, he is the one to call upon, and his help often comes at the last moment. _

His lips curled as he looked at the picture of the bearded man below the text. He was dressed in a green cloak and white robe, one hand up and touching a large, almost coin like pendant that hung from his neck, the other holding a shepherd's staff. A flame sat just above his head. He wasn't portrayed as being as serene as Jesus – his eyes held that little bit of resolution about them. Merle turned the card over.

_O most holy apostle, Saint Jude, faithful servant and friend of Jesus, the Church honoureth and invoketh thee universally, as the patron of hopeless cases, and of things almost despaired of. Pray for me, who am so miserable. Make use, I implore thee, of that particular privilege accorded to thee, to bring visible and speedy help where help was almost despaired of. Come to mine assistance in this great need, that I may receive the consolation and succor of Heaven in all my necessities, tribulations, and sufferings, particularly (here make your request) and that I may praise God with thee and all the elect throughout eternity. I promise thee, O blessed Jude, to be ever mindful of this great favour, to always honour thee as my special and powerful patron, and to gratefully encourage devotion to thee. Amen_

Merle snorted and turned away, throwing the card back onto the table and striding down the walkway. _Marion would have liked that_ he thought. _Not him. _ His whole life had been a _fuckin'_ 'lost cause', there'd never been a saint on his side. He paused at the Sanctuary steps, looking up at the altar and suddenly the rage within him exploded.

"Ya fuckin' asshole," he screamed and Dog jumped up from next to Marion, yipping. He watched Merle stride forward and his ears flattened against his head. "Wha' did I ever do to Ya?" demanded Merle as he ripped the altar cloth off and threw it to the ground. "Why did I git born to t'at asshole?" he dragged the small table under the window to the floor; the crystal bottles smashed as they hit the floor, the red of the wine spreading like blood over the marble floor. "Is t'is my hell – did I do somethin' to Ya in a previous life to deserve t'is" he pulled the tabernacle off its small stand; it gave a clang as it landed, the impact popping the cosmetic lock and a silver chalice rolled out spreading the Bread as it went. "T'is fucked up mess t'at is me life? Ya never gave me anything worthwhile," A vision of his mother, her soft eyes almost floating in love crossed his eyes and he remembered a young Daryl waving one pudgy hand up at his big brother, the other hand shoved firmly down his throat. He caught his breath, turning his attention to the drapes on the back wall. "Well Ya never let me keep it." The drapes came off their hooks with a rending tear and he stepped aside quickly as they cascaded to the ground. He kicked the priest's chair out of the way and looked up. "Ya want ta punish me t'en punish _me_ – ya already took me 'and, do something else to _me_."

He whirled, his eyes wild as he sought something else, anything else to take his rage on. He focused on the altar and took two steps forward, bracing one hand and stump underneath the edge of it. He heaved with all his strength, the muscles in his shoulders vibrating with the effort, his face turning red with the strain. The altar was too heavy or perhaps bolted to the floor – or perhaps both and with a whoosh of breath he folded to the floor.

He took in deep breaths and they came out in sobs, great heaving sobs that came from deep within him, feelings that had been held suppressed since he was twelve, since the time that any sign of 'weakness' was greeted with a fist, a belt, perhaps even a cigarette. They wracked through his body, seemingly breaking it the way that nothing physical ever could. He cried for his childhood that had been ripped from him too early, for his brother who had never had a childhood and who he had no idea whether he was alive or not, he cried for his mother who had just vanished leaving him with a hole in his heart that he had never been able to fill, he cried for the choices that he had made in life, that had left him bitter, twisted and alone. He cried for the woman not more than five yards away from him, the one that had managed to touch him in a way that no-one had, who had managed to put up with his ways, who had even managed to make him care for her – a broad, an intellectual, hoighty toighty foreign broad who was as brave as he had met.

A cold nose pushed in between his arms, finding his cheek. There was a thump thump as Dog sat against him and moved his tail. Merle lifted his head slightly and a warm raspy tongue found the lines of tears on his face, cautiously, as if expecting to perhaps be rebuffed but willingly. Merle allowed it, ridiculously feeling comforted and Dog felt emboldened enough to creep forward a bit more, whining slightly. Merle sniffed and sat up, dashing at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Fuckin' pussy," he complained to himself and Dog flinched, but finding that the tone wasn't directed at him he crept forward again and stepped up onto Merle's lap, turning to curl against him. Merle's hand slipped, almost against his will, into the animal's coat and there was another thump thump.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Marion bent over the sink holding her face into the cold water between her hands for a few seconds, letting it trickle slowly from her fingers. Ben had gotten worse; they'd moved to their bedroom, not looking at the room where the girls were as they went past. Marion had helped him into bed and then made her way to the bathroom. She couldn't be sick, as much as she wanted to, there was just nothing left inside her. She felt dead. They had missed it all; there had been some talk of troubles in the country before they'd arrived, but it had been no-where near where they had been planning to travel and the thought of losing ten grand for nothing had been impossible to consider, especially after their arguments. From what they could tell by what they had seen that day on the tv, the troubles had expanded throughout more of the country while they had been blithely travelling through the countryside – no-one had bothered telling the tourists that there was some sort of disease rampant through the country. She supposed they would have been worried about the tourists disappearing.

She splashed another handful of water on her face, the icy water tingling against her skin. She glanced up at her face _Rachel! Jenny! _in the mirror. Dark circled, tired brown eyes stared back at her, weary not only from a lack of sleep over the last few days but from horror. She sniffed, she couldn't let him see her like this. Not when he was trying to be so strong for her, hiding his fear to offer her what comfort he could – he who was hurting just as she was. She sniffed again, running her wet hands through her hair. She turned from the mirror and slid the door open – she saw his horrified face first, half lifted from the pillow. Then she heard the growl and looked down, stepping back with a whimper as her youngest daughter advanced on her – the side of her neck missing and showing a gaping hole with bite and tear marks around the outside. She hit the back of the bath and stumbled, falling half into the bath with her legs half in the air as her child growled in anticipation of the meal.

"Marion!" she heard Ben yell, knowing more than hearing him throw off the blankets off, trying to make his legs obey his commands as he battled with the wracking pains and thumping head. _He wouldn't make it_ she thought as she watched Jenny – _no, what used to be Jenny_ – step into the bathroom. She scrambled, pulling her legs back in and standing upright inside the bath, shrinking back from _the thing_ that was clawing at her from the other side. She looked around, searching for something _anything _that would do what she needed to do. _Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, razor _– none of what she could see looked remotely useful in this situation.

The hairdryer caught her attention – one of those tiny ones that was attached to the wall. Her own was much better, but she was on holiday and it wasn't compatible with the power supply so she hadn't bothered packing it. She reached out and grabbed at it – the cord stretched to its end and she reefed at it, flinching as the cord flicked across her face.

_The thing_ had been focused on the obstacle between _it _and _its food _and slowly, clumsily _it_ lifted a foot over the edge of the bath. Marion hit _it_ and with only one foot on the ground _it_ fell to the floor easily. Marion jumped out of the bath, lifting the hairdryer – but she hesitated. _Jenny! _

_The thing _growled, lifting up slightly. Mario brought the hairdryer down once, twice and again and again until _the thing _wasn't moving anymore. She stared at the mess that had her daughter's body and abruptly turned to the toilet.

She did have something left after all.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Her noise caught her attention and he lifted his head. She sounded like she was crying. He lifted Dog out of his lap, the animal quickly trotted over to Marion, jumping up onto the mattress with careless grace and whining as he pushed his nose into her neck. The sensation seemed to calm her and her twitching body stilled, her head lolling to one side. Merle laid his hand onto her forehead – still burning but now wet. He looked down at her, she was in a lather of sweat, he could see the wet patches through his shirt that she still wore and on her pants.

She shivered suddenly and he recognised the next cycle of chills. _She needed to get out of those wet clothes_ he thought, ignoring the idea that it was all a waste of time. _She was dying_. But he had no rage left, only an emptiness, an acceptance that this was his lot and that it _fuckin' sucked_. He sighed and reached down to pick up her bag.

_Women and their stuff_ he groused as he rummaged through her bag, trying to find something that he would actually be able to get her into. He knew that she had a couple of pairs of sweats plus she still normally nicked off with a pair of his – they'd be ideal because he could either pull up the legs when she was hot and pull them down when she was cold. He swore again and upended the bag, emptying it out over the floor. There was a rustle as the clothes fell out, the sweats coming out somewhere in the middle. Then there was a slight clang as the things buried at the bottom of the bag fell out.

Merle stared at the familiar leather strap, hypodermic needle, spoons, and several packs of white powder. "The bitch lied," he whispered and squatted down. He picked up the needle, its fall had been cushioned – it was still intact. He put it back down and picked up the powder, disproportionately heavy in his hand and the demons surfaced, screaming for the release that a hit would give him, the separation from reality that a hit would give him, the complete absence of any sense of responsibility that a hit would give him.

Dog growled and Merle looked up suddenly, tensing. He frowned when he saw nothing in the aisle and turned back to the animal, finding that his intense brown eyes were focused very steadily on him – on what he was holding. "Wha' tha fuck ya lookin' at?" growled Merle.

Dog's head lowered a little, but only a little. His eyes remained locked with Merle's and he growled again, although the sound was half a whine.

Merle looked down at what was in his hand.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"Pookie! Pookie! Marion – please give me back my Pookie," cried the voice, the door rattling a little against the security chain that Marion had placed over the door.

Marion quashed the guilt at taking the last remaining dog from Mrs Andrews, for whom the animals had clearly replaced children. "Let me out then," she demanded, holding Pookie Teacup firmly under one arm, her hand wrapped firmly around his muzzle to stop him sinking those sharp little teeth into her again.

Mrs Andrews gave a wail, but her voice dropped in volume as she was pulled away by Larry. The door was pulled shut with a click and then there was the sound of the key turning in the lock. The shadows that were the travelling insurance salesman Jack and lumberjack Bo settled in front of the door, looking outwards across the verandah to outside the _Palace_. The scene was horrific. In the three days since Rachel had turned to a monster the world outside had disintegrated – she'd managed to get a little bit of information from Larry before Jack made him slam the door closed. The nice quaint little town had been overcome by the illness, hundreds were sick, some had already died. Mr Watkins had apparently pushed his own coffin lid off while the Eulogy was being given – poor Mrs Packer had apparently almost had a heart attack and there had been some injuries in the mad scramble to escape the church. Mrs Andrews had shut the gates, locking them against those obscene creatures that meandered around the streets until attracted by someone living as well as those that were bitten or sick and were crying to be let in. Some had been let in, those that were healthy and had been able to negotiate the way through the streets to one of the smaller gates. She had heard gunshots every now and again while lying there with Ben, when his chest still moved with his breaths and after. She now knew these were the shots at the dead, at the sick that tried to stop the living getting into the _Palace's _compound. There looked to be about 50 people there now.

Marion dropped the dog to the ground, ready with a boot in case the mutt turned on her again. But after a solid thump as he hit the ground he ran to the door, scratching at it. He looked up at her and she snorted _dumb mutt_. She bent over and picked up the backpack of food – she was starving and her head was pulsing with forewarning of a major headache if she didn't get some caffeine into her system. She cracked open the pack of chocolate chip biscuits and threw two of them into her mouth, her stomach growling with anticipation. She grabbed the loaf of bread and cheese slices out of the bag and quickly made herself a rough sandwich, chewing on biscuits the whole time. She became aware of a presence next to her and looked down. She snorted at the sight of the dog sitting down on his haunches with his front legs lifted in the air. "Sit down," she ordered and he obediently lowered his front legs, thumping the floor with his tail. "Crap," she groaned and dropped him a scrap of cheese as she took a bite.

The growl made her stir slightly in her sleep. She wasn't really all that comfortable, the floor was cold and hard, but her belly was full and she needed the sleep. "Sit down mutt," she muttered, crossing her arms tighter across her chest and letting herself fade into sleep again. The next growl was louder and she glared at the sorry excuse for a dog _bloody yappy mutt_ and kicked out a foot. The dog yelped and ran out of the kitchen and she snorted, closing her eyes again. The dog barked and she swore "Unless you really want to become my lunch mutt, shut the hell up!" She should of course get up and go to bed, but that thought sent a shudder through her frame. _Perhaps the couch?_ she wondered. But it was too much effort to get up so she snuggled down as best she could. She heard another growl and then a noise of vehicles outside – big ones from the sound of it. _Probably Larry and Bo_ she thought dully. There was another growl and she grimaced, resolutely ignoring him. Then suddenly her hand exploded in pain and she gasped, opening her eyes and seeing the dog latched onto it. "Why you little..." she started and then a movement caught her eye and she looked up. _Oh God no_. She screamed. She scrambled up off the floor even as the man who used to be her husband came around the corner of the bench, a pasty look to his skin and a shield of white over his ocean blue eyes. He growled again, reaching out for her, his steps eager. The dog barked, ducking in to grab his ankles but dead-Ben ignored him, stepping through the dog as he reached for her. She staggered back but hit the bench _no-where to go_. He leaned in, his mouth open, the grotesque sounds pushing the stagnant breath into her face.

She lifted her knee up sharply, in a manner that she would never have contemplated with her husband. _Its _body recoiled, but only from the impact, not any pain. It was enough though and she ducked under _its_ arms and ran to the door. "Bo, Jack!" she screamed. "Let me out!" she yanked at the door handle, not taking in that the security chain was still attached. "Pleeeeease" she screeched as she turned and saw the thing that had been Ben advance towards her.

The dog intervened then, running in front of _it_ and nipping at _its_ legs. _It_ paused, as if puzzled by the white blur that was harassing _it_. Marion rattled at the door knob again – "Bo! Jack! Larry!" she screamed – and as if slow motion _its _attention rolled back to her. _It _snarled, _its _face an awful parody of the one she had loved for more than twelve years, the one that had looked on with love for more than twelve years, the one that she had seen heated with passion above her, the one that she had seen almost weep with joy as he had held each of his daughters naked and screaming, the one that had met hers with pride when either of them had accomplished something. Marion whimpered and backed away from the door and _it_ shambled over towards her. _It _reached _its_ hands out and she ducked, seeing that she was going to be trapped and taking a step down the hallway. As if anticipating her plan to lock herself in the bedroom, or perhaps just eager for a meal _it_ lunged –Marion yelped as she dodged again, the fingertips brushing against the fabric of her shirt. It took another step and she backpedalled. She hit the kitchen bench again _déjà vu_ part of her mind thought even as she opened her mouth and let out a blood curdling scream – similar to what she'd heard muffled through the walls of the _Palace_, even as her hands felt behind her, fumbling with the handle of the drawer.

_Its_ hands reached out to her, grabbing her on the shoulders and _its_ head leaned in, mouth open and teeth bared. Marion's hand latched around the handle and she brought out the carving knife – plunging it into _its_ shoulder. Blood splurted out; something vital was severed with the blow and one hand lost the strength in _its_ grip – she rolled out of _its _hold and turned for the bedroom. _Its _hand latched onto her belt and she jerked to a halt. She screamed and turned, bringing the knife up and slamming it into _its _eye. The figure slumped suddenly and she yelped as it took her down with her, _its _head landing on her belly as they tangled together.

The door burst open with a bang and she lifted her head.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..


	63. Chapter 63

Chapter 63

"No, no, no!" she yelled, lifting her blood soaked hands towards the khaki clad solder who advanced on her with his weapon raised, ignoring the white streak that was the dog leaving the room.

"Sergeant!" snapped a voice from the doorway. "Stand down – zombies don't talk."

"She's been bit LT," responded the Sergeant, obediently pausing in his advance but keeping his rifle aimed at her head.

"Are you bitten ma'am?" asked a respectful voice and Marion turned to him.

"No, he didn't get me."

"Ya can't be sure o' that LT," cautioned the Sergeant. "Look at all that blood."

The lieutenant paused. "Get Anderson up here."

The Sergeant glanced over from his target then back at Marion. "LT..." he started.

"Now Sergeant," the command was unmistakable.

"At least arm yerself LT," pleaded the sergeant as he took a step back.

The officer sighed, but pulled his sidearm from his holster. The sergeant looked once more at Marion and then turned and jogged out of the room. She heard him bellowing for Anderson before he'd even made it through the door. The officer placed his weapon back in his holster, although Marion noticed that he didn't secure it, and offered her a hand. "Lieutenant Watson, 1214 Forward Support Company," he introduced himself and he dragged her to her feet from underneath what used to be her husband. "Out of Washington."

"Marion Arnold," she returned, looking with distaste at her hands and wondering which Washington he meant. She reached over and dragged the t-towel off the oven door handle and wiped her hands. She tossed the towel to him and he wiped his own hand clean with a smile. "You army?"

"National Guard," he confirmed. He nodded at the body on the floor. "That your husband?"

"Used to be," she nodded. "My daughters are in the other room."

He winced and opened his mouth, but there was a clatter of boots and the sergeant led the way in, his face turning to his officer with some reproach as he noticed the gun in the holster. Another soldier followed him in, her own gun held in her hands. "Anderson," the officer voice was back. "Please check the lady over."

Marion blinked.

"This way ma'am," said the woman, polite but with a hint of steel. The sergeant just lifted his weapon a touch higher and the lieutenant turned to him with a frown, but said nothing.

Marion sighed and walked down the hallway.

"Ma'am?" the soldier pointed to the door.

"Not that one," Marion shook her head and kept going to their bedroom. She heard the soldier gasp as she glanced through the door, then the bootsteps followed her. She closed the door and stood against it.

"I need you to strip ma'am."

Marion sighed but obeyed, sheer horror overcoming any sensitivity she would have normally had about stripping before a perfect stranger, female or not, and then allowing her to actually touch her while still naked, rubbing (with gloved hands) where the blood had soaked onto her skin. She was given the all clear and walked into the bathroom and straight into the shower. She stood under the scorching water, watching as the red water turned pink and then faded to clear as it circled down the plughole.

"Ma'am?" the respectful voice had increased in volume and he had actually stepped inside the bathroom at his third attempt to get her attention.

"Yes Lieutenant?" she replied, rousing herself.

"We're heading out," he announced.

"Ok?" she frowned slightly.

"We're taking the survivors to Atlanta," he clarified. "Pack a bag – only the essential things that you can carry on your back."

"Ok," she said again, this time in acknowledgement.

"Ten minutes ma'am," he stressed,

She smiled. "I'll be there Lieutenant."

There were a couple hundred or so people plus about fifty soldiers in the _Palace _courtyard as she came down the stairs, her backpack over her shoulder. She saw Larry standing with Jack both with large kit bags slung between their shoulders and she idly wondered where Jack would have got it (it looked like what Bo's), Mrs Andrews was clutching her dog under her arm sobbing in front of a soldier, Celia with her arm around the older woman's shoulders and a bag slung over a shoulder, a pink wheeled suitcase sitting at her feet. The others were all huddled in small groups, their clothes sweaty and dirty, various types of bags at their feet or over their shoulders, small children riding on men's shoulders, one woman absently rocking a pram which seemed to be full of food. Marion looked away; she didn't want to know what happened to the baby.

Two figures approached her and she smiled at the officer. "Ready as requested Lieutenant."

"Hey!" snarled the sergeant. "Watch ya tongue bitch!"

"Stand down Sergeant," snapped the lieutenant. "She's Australian – that's how they say it."

The sergeant didn't look convinced and he regarded Marion with suspicion.

"Ma'am," the lieutenant lifted clear hazel eyes to her steadily. "I'm sorry– I have orders to leave you here."

"What?" she exclaimed. "Why – I'm no bitten, I'm not sick!"

"My orders," he said it stiffly, "are to escort the _American _refugees to Atlanta."

_Larry is Canadian_ she thought and opened her mouth. Then she closed it again. Larry had been kind to her; he had played with Jenny in the first couple of days when Rachel had been sick. He'd given her the bag of food when the others hadn't been interested in helping. _She couldn't sabotage his way out._ "So what am I meant to do?"

The sergeant snorted but quailed under a very direct look from his officer. The hazel eyes had softened by the time they turned back to her. "I have informed the Australian consulate ma'am. They are aware that you are here and they are organising an extraction."

Marion had the feeling that he had gone outside his authority in doing that and while her smile was tight, it was genuine. "Thankyou Lieutenant."

"Go and clear the gates Sergeant," ordered the officer. It was clear that the sergeant wasn't happy but he nodded and turned on his heel, looking back at them only once. The lieutenant waited until he was a distance away. "Here," he offered her a bag. "Pull the pin – you've got 10 seconds," Marion's brows rose at the sight of grenades amongst the plastic packets of food. They rose even further as he held out a gun towards her.

"I don't know how to use it," she confessed under the cover of heavy fire from the gate.

"It's simple ma'am," he instructed. "This is the safety – when you see the red spot that means that it shoots when you pull the trigger. When it clicks empty, drop the magazine out like this, and then put the next one in." He pushed it to her and she hesitantly took it. "I'm sorry ma'am."

She nodded, gritting her teeth to stop the tears that threatened to come.

"You lock this place up tight ma'am," he continued. "They can't get in, and..." he paused. "There's none left in here that could be a problem." She looked up rather startled and caught a glimpse of a wounded soul before the professional face was back. "Good luck ma'am. God bless."

"You too Lieutenant," she said softly. "Thankyou."

He nodded sharply and turned, giving instructions to the sergeant which were then bawled out in command to get together. He didn't turn back around as he moved to a HMMVEE, the vehicle moving even before his foot had entirely left the ground. The sergeant continued to bawl out commands and the slow train of humanity picked themselves up and started to trek behind them, a contingent of guardsmen behind them.

"Marion?" a quavering voice attracted her attention and she turned to Mrs Andrews.

"Yes Mrs Andrews?" she said with icy punctiliousness.

The woman recoiled slightly but Marion stamped on her guilt. The woman had allowed her to be locked in a suite with her dead family. "They won't allow me to take Pookie," the woman continued hesitantly.

"So?" Marion's lip curled slightly as she looked at the white furball. The feeling was mutual and a slight growl came from the animal.

"He can't cope by himself – I've had him since he was a baby," said Mrs Andrews in her quavering voice. "I was wondering..." her voice faltered. "I was wondering if you would take care of him?"

"Why should I?" demanded Marion.

"It'll only be for a few weeks," continued the woman. "I'll be back for him once they have it all sorted."

Marion snorted. _This was going to take more than a few weeks._ "Give me your master key," she said instead. The woman started and Marion realised that she expected to come back and start trading again. "I am not spending another day in a room with my dead family."

Mrs Andrews hesitated, but then reached into her clutch purse and extracted a key. She passed it over but held onto it as Marion's fingers connected with it. "You'll look after the _Palace _won't you."

"Of course," she smiled stiffly and the exchange was made, tearful goodbyes from Mrs Andrews cut short by the yell from the soldiers as they filed past. A couple kept their rifles trained on Marion as she stood there, the white dog wriggling and whimpering in her arms. She broke just as the last of them rounded the corner. "No!" she screamed and dropped the dog, running towards the gate. "Don't leave me please – don't leave me!"

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle stared at the drugs in his hand, his very being clamouring for him to lay a line on the pew, to send his mind to oblivion – perhaps for ever. _Why would she have kept them? _he wondered briefly, but she was such a conservative soul – she probably kept them in case he needed them, as in went into severe withdrawal. Perhaps she thought that they may have some medicinal benefit? Dog whined again and Merle looked up, seeing his own distress mirrored in the dog's eyes.

"_The Apostle Saint Jude Thaddeus is "The Miraculous Saint," the Patron Saint of "lost causes" and "cases despaired of." When all other avenues are closed, he is the one to call upon, and his help often comes at the last moment. _

It had to be some dumb luck, a monumental co-incidence that out of all the places they passed through, out of all the churches that she might spot, that they landed in a place dedicated to this particular saint. _Or perhaps it was something else_ suggested his mind cautiously. Merle looked at what was in his hand and then out to the doorway where there was a larger picture of the saint vaguely visible. _He had never been one to deal with the middle man._

Dog yipped, sitting up as Merle stood abruptly and strode to the altar. He looked up towards the figure of Christ, leaning forward on his arms and feet, the crown of thorns around his head. "I lost belief in You a long time ago," he said. "You took t'ings away from me, precious t'ings. So I abandoned You. I've bin bad, I get t'at. But she ain't – she _believes_ in You. After all t'at You've taken from her, her husband, her little girls. She _believes _in You and she _trusts _in You."

"Is t'ere a plan 'ere?" he demanded, firmly but not aggressively. "Is t'at why we're 'ere? Do You 'ave a plan? Are you punishin' me for wha' I've done in me life– bringing her to me only to snatch her 'way from me? Is t'at wha' t'is is? Tell me wha' I 'ave ta do ta stop it. I'll do anyt'in', anyt'in'," he repeated in a whisper. "Just don't do _t'is_. Not to her."

Merle looked up at the altar and slowly he placed the drugs on the table. Even more slowly he lowered himself to his knees. "Wha' do ya want from me?"

There was silence in the church, broken only by their breathing: Marion's painfully slow and shallow, Dogs quicker and Merle's almost raspy gulps.

"Let her live," he pleaded. "And I will spend tha rest of me life watchin' over her. Keepin' her safe, helpin' her do what she needs to do." He looked up, but the figure was obscured by the altar. "T'at's all I 'ave ta give. I give it freely. Just – let – her – live."

There was silence in the church, broken only by their breathing.

"Don't leave me please – don't leave me!" cried out Marion suddenly, writhing with distress.

Merle turned abruptly, lurching to his feet and over to her.

"Don' leave me alone," she cried.

"I ain't going anywhere woman" murmured Merle, placing his hand on top of her forehead. "I got ya sugar.

She subsided and shivered.

Merle sighed and reached down to pick up the pair of sweats and proceeded to change her clothes, her body limp within his arms.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

The tears rolled down her cheek as she looked at the graves. They weren't the neatest; Arthur would have laughed at her efforts but an excavator was literally an extension to that man's arm – she thought she'd done alright, if she ignored the couple of damaged headstones and flattened tree. She'd found some spring flowers around the church that hadn't been trampled or died in the Georgian heat without attention and these adorned the graves. A growl caught her attention and she turned towards the dog that was looking towards the church.

She shuddered; she'd had a glimpse of what was in there – that was enough for her. "Come on you," she commanded, holding the gun at her side as they made their way back to the car. He hopped in before her and she narrowed her eyes. "Manners of a mongrel," she complained although it was Mrs Andrews' fault for giving the mutt such an expectation. She started the car and drove back towards the _Palace_.

"Crap," she swore as she rounded a corner and saw the group of dead in the middle of the street. They turned at the noise and started to make their way towards the car. She looked around, the way forward was the best one to get to the _Palace_, the other streets had restricted access; she could get stuck far too easily in any of those.

The dog growled at the sight of the group and Marion turned to look at him. Her head tipped to the side as she looked at him and she reached over to him with one arm, opening the door with the other and dropping him to the pavement. He looked up at her as she slammed the door. "You better get a move on mate," she advised and he yipped. She shook her head at him. "We'll discuss it if you get back to the _Palace_." She squashed her guilt down, _bloody animal tried to bite me_, as he barked at her once more before scampering away, the horde of dead close on his tail. Marion waited until the majority had gone past her, then started the car up again and drove back to the _Palace._

The dog arrived as she finished bolting the gates, panting and out of breath. "Well well," she nodded. "Good work Dog." She looked down the street and saw the figures shambling around aimlessly. "Maybe you aren't a waste of oxygen after all." She bent down and gave him a rough pat. "Come on – we have work to do."

The animal watched in confusion as she walked up and down the verandahs, pulling the fire extinguishers off the walls and stockpiling them in front of their suite and on the other side of the building roughly in the same area. He jumped when she tested an extinguisher to make sure she knew how it worked and then sneezed, pawing at his nose as the odour of fuel saturated the air as she poured it all over the floor of the rooms, splashing it over the blood patches on the walls, on the blood soaked sheets.

"Lord – I don't understand," she said softly, opening the pack of matches. "But for some reason I am alive. So be it." She struck the match and threw it onto the carpet. There was a whoosh and a blue flame raced through the rooms followed by a burst of orange flame, a crackle that soon rose to deafening, and a billow of black smoke. She took a deep breath, holding steady against the heat that assaulted her. She picked up the first extinguisher and aimed it at the ceiling – she wanted to burn the room, not the entire building. "I will live."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

The groan woke him, the dawn light only just poking over the top of the windows. For a moment he was disorientated, there was a warmth on his lap and under his hand, he was upright and had a pain in his neck. He opened his eyes and blinked, straightening his neck with a grimace and lifting his hand to rub at it. He looked down, seeing that he had fallen asleep on the pew and that Dog was still curled up in his lap.

There was another groan and Dog's ears pricked, he lifted his head.

_No_ thought Merle in despair, watching her body roll around awkwardly. _No_. There were no tears this time, no anger even – not yet, that would come. Now he just felt a numbness _he had failed her. She had asked that he protect her from this, that he prevent her turning into one of them._ He had stayed awake until after midnight, based on what that not-really-a-clock clock had chimed at him. He had moved away for a bit when she'd gotten hot again – it was only a matter of time before she was cold and he'd planned to sit and wait, then crawl back into bed with her. But he'd fallen asleep and now he'd woken up _too late._

Merle stood, catching Dog and placing him on the pew. "Stay t'ere," he instructed, reaching around to his hip where his knife lay. It came out with a scrape, the sound echoed and bounced off the marble and the walls. Dog whined and Merle turned to him. "We'll be alright Dog," he assured him. "We'll be alright," he tried to assure himself.

She groaned again, managing to roll over and tapping her hand over the back of the pew, but couldn't lift her body upright. He reached forward, lifting his blade.

"Uugh Merle?" said a faint voice and he froze.

Dog yipped and bounced off the pew and onto the bed with her, his tail wagging a million times a minute as he dug his head into her face. "Dog!" she protested weakly, finally managing to grab him and pulled him against her, holding him still. She looked up; her brown eyes – dull, sunken and full of pain, but brown none the less – found him. "Merle?"

The knife clattered to the ground unheeded as reached over to her, bracing her body with his arm and straightening her. "Ya alive!" he rasped, pulling her into his arms and squeezing her against him.

"Merle," she winced and he released his pressure on her little bit.

"Yeah sugar?" he asked tenderly, pulling back and putting his forehead against hers and smiling ever so slightly.

"I really need to do a wee."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

So that is the start of how Dog got to be so good at drawing in geeks!


	64. Chapter 64

Warning – if it starts to read like M rated material that's because it is and feel free to return for resumption in actual plot development at the next chapter.

Chapter 64

She was as weak as a kitten and he had to carry her to the bathroom, a process complicated somewhat by Dog who couldn't seem to allow himself to be more that a foot away from her. Merle hovered outside the door while she performed some basic ablutions, then carried her back to the church and sat her on a pew while he turned the mattress over, stripping the blankets off it and replacing them with supplies raided from the priest's linen cupboard.

Marion stroked Dog absently, taking in the mess of the Sanctuary, the absence of the drapes, the upset table and tabernacle, the spilt wine. She turned to Merle, taking in the weariness of his movements, the strain throughout his whole body. She stood carefully and he leapt forward to support her, sweeping her off her feet to deposit her back on the mattress.

Marion studied his face, the drawn features, the dark circles under his eyes, and lifted a hand, grimacing slightly as the wounds on her arm protested, touching his face gently. "Hey?"

Merle paused in pulling the blanket over her. The air in the church was cold from the morning air still streaming in the doors that he had opened for her the night before. He could see her breath frost up. "Hey," he whispered back.

"You still here?" she asked softly.

"Not like I 'ad anywhere else ta go," he replied lowly. "Not wit'out me trav'ling companion."

She smiled. "What day is it?"

"Day 2," he said, watching as she recognised the significance of that statement.

"I got sick?"

He nodded. "Fever – pretty bad."

She looked at her arm, it was bandaged so she couldn't see much but the pain was only a slight dull ache. She moved her leg under the blankets, it twinged but nothing significant. "You look like shit."

He snorted, reaching up to grab her hand that was still on his face. "Says who?"

Having seen her face in the bathroom mirror she knew exactly how haggard she looked. "You need some sleep."

"Got some t'in's to do," he resisted the slight pull on his hand.

"They can wait," she said quietly and pulled a bit harder.

_They can wait _agreed his internal voice. He nodded and she released his hand, watching as he made his way to the bottom of the mattress and clambered up, slipping under the blanket but keeping the sheet in between them as he pressed up against her.

Marion gave him a frown at the separation between them, but to her it had been a couple of hours since she had been writhing naked in his arms. To him it had been a few hours since she had been writhing on her deathbed and he shook his head once. She sighed and lay her head down, reaching down to give Dog a pat as he jumped up and lay along her front. Merle's stump reached over at her waist and she waited; but it stayed still, pulling with only a slight pressure so that she could feel his hips against her bottom, his knees against hers and his chest rising and falling with his breaths. She sighed again and reached over to grab his wrist, dragging his stump to where it should be and closed her eyes.

Merle smiled a little, settling his stump between her breasts and nudging her legs slightly so his could slip, sheet not withstanding, between her legs. She made another sighing sound, she was already pretty much asleep and for a few moments he lay propped up on his elbow, watching the side of her face. He felt a cold nose on his elbow and he looked down, Dog thump thumped his tail gently. "We got 'er back Dog, we got 'er back," murmured Merle and Dog's tail waved slightly before he put his head back down on his paws. Merle looked up at the figure of Christ, almost glowing in the early morning light. "T'ankyou," he said and lowered his head, placing his lips against the back of her head and slept.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

She slept for most of the next two days, but it was a deep calm sleep for the main part. Merle kept within an easy distance, feeding and watering an irate Penny who he'd forgotten about again, coaxing Dog who was reluctant to leave Marion to eat and drink, then discovering a ravenous hunger within himself. He managed to coax Marion to drink and eat in between her sleeps until she complained that she would burst, then when he actually presented her with a couple of chocolate bars, jokingly said that he was an addiction enabler. He spent the rest of the time cleaning up the mess he'd made in the Sanctuary, figuring out how to wash the sheets one handed and, the first time she woke up properly, replacing the mattress and anything that had touched her when she was sick and burning them. He placed all the drugs and associated products on the same fire, watching them burn with little emotion. They had never done him any good. Sure they'd given him some short term release, a way to hide from the shit that was his life. But because of them he had lost his brother and he had almost lost Marion. And he meant what he had promised; every fibre of his being was going to be put into making sure she was safe, for the rest of his life.

The third day she decided she needed to get up and have a shower. It took him only a short while to rig up something which would actually allow her to have a hot shower and he walked her into the bathroom. She thanked him quietly and started to undo the buttons on the shirt of his that he wore. He turned at her slight sound and just caught her as she stumbled. "My legs are still rubbery," she confessed as he lowered her down onto the toilet.

"Ya knocked up woman," he groused. "'ave a shower 'nother day."

Marion grimaced. "But I'm all sticky," she whined – an indication of how sick she still was. "I'm itchy and my hair feels disgusting. I really want a shower. Please Merle?"

Merle sighed _as if he had all the fuckin' answers_. He knew that she wouldn't be happy if she sacrificed one of the priest's chairs for her to sit on and there wasn't anything else that he could think off the top of his head.

Well he could think of one thing.

_BAD idea_ said the voice inside his head.

"Git undressed," he ordered and Marion frowned in confusion. Then she saw him bend to unbuckle his boots and her eyes widened, she fumbled a little bit with the buttons and then leant back to loosen the tie of the trackies before pushing them off. His arms reached underneath hers and she started in surprise.

"It is customary to disrobe before showering you know Merle," she said wryly, taking in his t-shirt, jeans and socks with a grin. His cuff and belt sat with the boots off to the side.

"Bad idea sugar," he murmured, feeling her nakedness (putting underwear on her had been beyond him at the time) against him.

"It's a _cold _shower Merle," she said laughing, bracing herself against him as he leaned in to turn the water on.

"I 'eated some up for ya," he said instead of anything else he may have.

"Hot water?" she exclaimed and pressed herself up to him to press her lips against his cheek. "Oh you _beautiful _man!"

Even his internal voice was dumbstruck at that and Merle swallowed. He stepped in, holding her as she followed, her gasp of pleasure doing all sorts of strange things to his belly. He kept his stump on her waist as she turned into the water, letting it cascade onto her chest, over her face and then on top of her head, still making little sounds of pleasure which were starting to make him uncomfortable. His put his hand up on the frame of the shower screen, gripping until his knuckles went white. She turned, putting her head back and he almost bit his tongue off, closing his eyes against the visage presented to him.

_Ya brute_ chastised the voice. _Woman almost died – she's barely on her feet and ya already thinking of bangin' her?_

Merle beat against the roaring of his blood with sheer force of will. He would _not_ be an animal, he _would _control himself, he... his breath caught as she pressed her chest against him. "Marion?" he whispered.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I don't think..."

His eyes opened and his grip tightened as she collapsed into him.

"Fuck it woman," he groused as he barely managed to prevent himself falling on top of her as she fell, the water pouring over him. He changed his grip to underneath her arms and hoisted her to her feet, then swung an arm underneath her legs. He pushed at the door and stepped out, bracing himself to prevent himself falling and after a short struggle, sat down on the toilet with her in his lap. "Ya a stubborn piece of work woman – ya know t'at," he complained.

"Pot calling the kettle black," she parroted back to him and he smirked. He balanced her against him and reached for the towel, rubbing roughly at what he could access of her body. "Sorry," she murmured against his throat.

He heaved a sigh. "Ain't not'in' ta be sorry about sugar." He dropped the towel onto her and stood up again; the tiles were slippery and he skated a step or two, then hit the wall and slid to the floor.

Marion giggled, even though his arms had tightened around her and hurt her a little. "There is a reason that one showers without one's socks on you see!"

"Shut up," he growled and toed his socks off, trying to brace his feet underneath him so that he could push up. But he'd saturated the floor with his fall and he lurched again, landing with another thud and rolling in an effort to make sure that he didn't land on her. He copped her full weight in his belly for his effort and grunted under the impact.

Dog barked at them in excitement and Marion laughed harder while trying to roll slightly so her body weight was distributed more evenly along his length. "Shut up," he growled again, his tone lifting in frustration. "Wha' tha fuck 'appens if a glitch rolls t'rough."

Marion let off a peal of laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of his statement, burying her face into his neck. His lips twitched and he let out a chuckle – it sent Marion even further off the edge and he couldn't contain himself any longer. Dog sniffed in disgust and left them to it.

The shower signalled the start of her becoming stronger. She was able to get up and stay up for periods at a time, often sitting outside and watching him detail the car, or clean the guns, sword and her crossbow. She started eating with a real appetite, although halfway through the meal of chicken she did pause a look at him suspiciously. He smirked but allayed her fears with a description of what he had found at the farm earlier in the day, including the couple of younger roosters that were being thrashed by their more mature counterpart. He didn't mention the half dozen geeks that had been gathered around the fenceline.

The New Year arrived with little fanfare. As much as the occasion seemed to demand some celebration, Marion had pushed herself too far and when she had reached up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss, he had felt her trembling in his arms from the effort of being up for the majority of the day. His insides screamed, he had kept his response chaste, biting back the moan at the obvious sigh of disappointment she had given.

They didn't talk of her illness.

It was on the fifth day after she'd woken up when it happened. She had been reading in a chair against the wall, basking in the winter sun but out of the wind that felt like it was coming off snow. Merle had exhausted all the possible work that he could do on the vehicle and, while he had been considering another trip into town to raid the supermarket, he wasn't ready to leave her alone yet. She could walk around, but she winded easily and she barely had enough strength to lift her sword and crossbow, let alone wield them. So he had dug out the motorcycle magazine that he'd picked up all those weeks ago and lay down on the grass near her, Dog stretched along next to him with all four legs in the air and tongue half out of his mouth as he snoozed. A gentle snore caught Merle's and Dog's attention; Dog jerked and rolled up to his belly, his ears pricked; Merle started and then turned his head over his shoulder.

Marion lay slumped in the chair, the book still in her hands but collapsed forward to in between her knees. Her head had fallen forward and to the side, putting her neck on a severe angle. She took a breath in and a sort of rumbling sound mixed with a slight wheeze and whistle sounded.

"Hah!" gloated Merle, feeling more than slightly vindicated and thinking of what he was going to say to her when she woke up. Dog thumped his tail once in response and then lowered his head back onto his paws. Merle turned back to his magazine, admiring the bodyart on the Harley in the article in front of him. The gentle snores formed a backdrop to that for several more minutes before a thought struck him and he turned back around. "Marion," he said, then repeated a little louder when she didn't stir. "Fuck it woman," he complained and pushed himself to his feet. "Git a fuckin' crick in ya neck."

Dog lifted his head and watched as Merle delicately picked the book from her hands and placed it on the ground. He put his hand against her cheek and pushed her face, righting her head. But as soon as he removed his hand, her head slumped back forward, ending up in a worse position. He sighed _at least he was getting some weight training in lately, just needed some cardio now_ and reached his hand under her knees and his stump under her shoulders to hoist her up.

She woke slightly with his action, but recognised the arms around her and the odour in her nostrils. It was all man, more than a suggestion of grease and gun oil mixed amongst the muskiness that was distinctive to Merle. She sighed and reached an arm over his neck, pulling herself closer to him. She felt the sensation of movement and the temperature dropped out of the direct sunlight. She felt herself being juggled a little and then she was being placed onto the mattress. Marion kept her arm locked about his neck and opened her eyes, smiling into the blue eyes within a handbreadth of her face.

It was uncertain who moved first but they met somewhere in the middle, her hand braced around the back of his head and his braced on the mattress near hers. Her mouth opened at his tongue's slightest suggestion and he moaned as he tasted her sweetness. He allowed more of his body to sink over the top of the pew, pressing her further into the mattress. She reacted eagerly, her other hand threading underneath him and around his waist, reaching his belt and giving it a firm tug. He obeyed the request and climbed over the top of the pew, never breaking his mouth's contact with hers, bringing his knees to either side of her hips. He braced his weight on his stump and lifted his hand up to her chest, gently cupping the soft roundness and rasping a thumb across its centre. He was rewarded with an immediate tightening and a groan from her throat. His own body reacted immediately, his blood exploding with heat.

Her hands left him and for a moment he lifted his head, his mouth opening to ask a question, but she swept her shirt off her torso and all words died. He lowered his mouth slowly to the peak still pushing out the him, wetting the fabric of her bra with first his breath and this his tongue as he teased at the impudent nipple begging for attention. She moaned as his teeth grazed against the skin and almost pushed his head out of the way so she could put her hands behind her to undo the clasp. Merle pushed the suddenly slack material up and over her breasts, engulfing one with his hand and turning his mouth to the other one.

Her hands were taking the initiative again but his legs were getting in the way. He lifted his head and quickly rectified the situation, dragging down her sweats and underpants in one almost brutal motion that made Dog yip in protest from near her knees. Merle leant back into her and she was reaching back for him, running her hands over his belly and around to his lower back, pulling him into her even as her mouth answered everything that he asked. Her eagerness drove him wild and he responded, pushing his erection hard against her centre – the effect was electric and both of them moaned into each others mouths.

Suddenly Marion pushed at his shoulder and turned her head, Merle winced as she coughed, feeling the wracking through her body between his legs and under his hand.

"Ya right?" he asked as the coughs subsided, Dog whined a little and inched forward.

"Sorry," she nodded weakly, then gave Merle a regretful smile and Dog a reassuring pat. "The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak."

He smirked slightly at her words. "'salright – t'ere ain't no rush," he replied, despite all physical evidence to the contrary.

"Really?" she quirked her brow and reached down to cup the hardness in the middle of his jeans. "I reckon I could deal with that for you at least."

"Hell woman, I can deal wit' it if I hafta," he groused even as he swallowed, hard.

"Hmm – ampidexterous," she teased.

"Go ta sleep woman," he grinned, rolling his body away from hers and reaching down for the blanket.

"I'm not really tired anymore," she complained. Every nerve ending was alight, screaming for his touch – but her heart was still beating wildly and she knew that the merest exertion would send her coughing again. So she obediently closed her eyes with another, wistful, sigh.

Merle's brows lifted at her words, looking down at her length, glorious in her nakedness – but thin, a little pale and breathing hard. _They couldn't do this – she just wasn't up to it_ he decided. The desire still raging in his being would just have to die a slow death, or he would have to go and have a cold shower. _On the other hand..._

Marion's eyes snapped open suddenly "What are..." her voice died off abruptly as it became deliciously apparent what he was doing. She arched into his mouth as he sucked gently at her centre, then used his tongue against her, inside her – sending out pulses of extreme pleasure as advance parties to the steadily advancing tide of desire.

Her vision cleared slightly and for half a second she stared at the wall behind her; the brakes suddenly applied. "Merle..." she called, gasping despite herself as he moved his hand to a spot under his mouth.

There was a grunt from her nether regions.

"Merle – we're in a _church_."

"Close ya fuckin' eyes woman," he ordered, his words somewhat obscured.

Marion shut her eyes, clenched them shut – but it was no good. The image of Jesus falling for the second time under the weight of the cross was firmly emblazoned on the back of her eyelids. The tide of desire had been turned irrevocably – both in direction and temperature and her voice was full of anguish, "Merle..."

"Fuck."

She heard that without any trouble as his warmth was suddenly lifted from between her legs.

She winced, "I'm so sor..." she started but her words were cut off with a squeak as she found herself yanked towards the end of mattress and hoisted up. Instinctively her legs wrapped around his hips as his arms wrapped around her back, pulling her close enough to him so that her arms could wrap around his neck. She looked over Merle's shoulder at Dog trotting behind, then around as she was transported down the aisle under the power of large, purposeful strides and then blinked in the sun as he took her outside.

She started to giggle and his voice was a reprimand as he lowered her down to the ground under the small tree. "Ya fuckin' complain about the cold woman and I ..."

"What cold?" she gasped as his mouth found her most sensitive region. "It's like 40degrees isn't it?"

Some part of his mind recognised that she was talking Celsius and that 40 was _fuckin'_ hot, but all he heard was the passion in her voice and with roaring blood he lowered his head back down to her again. He moved his arm, to take the weight on the stump and let his hand free – as he moved it it grazed across her breast – she moaned and arched up. He blinked and brushed his stump over her again; the scar, despite Samson's best efforts, had a roughness to it – it scraped over her skin in a way that she apparently found delicious. _So the fuckin thing wasn't useless after all_. But he wanted fingers for this and he changed his weight, inserting his fingers into her warm and wet folds, curling them – and she bucked, a moan escaping her lips. Merle smirked at the sound, loving the power he had over her, the way that he could make her forget her inhibitions. He took hold of her with his teeth and curled his fingers, moving his tongue over her, listening to her breathing grow more and more ragged as she was taken closer and closer to the edge.

"Cum for me sugar," he breathed and with a sudden moan and arch she did exactly that; he felt her clenching at his fingers and slowed down his actions – watching her as she rode the waves. _Fuck _he thought as his own desire threatened to explode, he'd never really believed that watching a woman in the throes of orgasm could be such a turn on. Pride dictated that his women always knew the full pleasure of sex with him, but he'd never taken a woman over the edge just with his mouth and fingers – he went down when he felt a desire to taste pussy, not for their pleasure. It was different with her. He'd wanted to give her pleasure for herself, he'd wanted to find her buttons and figure out exactly how they made her tick.

_Is different when ya love the woman –ain't it redneck_.

He froze – _love? Love this woman?_ _Only a Dixon could love a Dixon. _

_Never said _she_ loved _you_ brother_ said the voice snidely. _But is plain as that ugly head on ya shoulders that ya in love with the woman._

Marion looked up, meeting his eyes over the top of her heaving chest. She smiled, her eyes still drowning in the aftermath of her orgasm. "Come here," she breathed.

He sucked his fingers clean and slowly rolled up, taking his time moving across her flat (and even skinnier than before) belly, up over her ribs (which didn't have enough flesh on them) and was sidetracked at her breasts before he made it to her mouth. It was a slow, languid kiss which never the less fanned his already flaming blood.

"Wow," she breathed at him.

Blood pounded against his ears as he felt a surge of pride in being able to do that for _his _woman.

"But that," she continued as her fingers found and unslipped his belt buckle, moving the zipper down and releasing his shaft. "Is simply unacceptable." Her hands encircled him gently and pushed down, exposing his tip to the calluses of her fingers.

He groaned, sinking his head into her neck as her hands worked their magic, pushing him over the precipice which he had been dangling on. Her teeth grasped his ear lightly and she moved her hands up to his shoulders.

Then she shivered.

Merle straightened and kissed her again, then reefed off his shirt and wiped it over her belly, before standing and pulling her to her feet. He hauled her close to him to provided her some warmth and walked her back to the church.

Dog sniffed as he picked himself up again and trotted after them.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..


	65. Chapter 65

Whoops – lost in translation moment! NO – Marion is not pregnant! While the term 'knocked up' can be used to talk about being pregnant – to my generation of Australians (not sure about the kids) it would normally mean being tired, low on strength.

Chapter 65

He _should_ tell her. He knew that. He should say those three little words. _I love you. _Normal people said them.

_And that's where we have a problem_ said the sardonic voice inside his head.

The Dixon clan were not normal – not when it came to feelings at least – _Hell not in a lot of ways. _He couldn't remember loving a woman before – except his mother. None of the other women in his childhood, not his Pa's mother, sisters or aunts – none of them had really even tried to gain his love. The women of his adult life weren't really the type that he may have considered loving and they weren't after his _love_ either. Love was a foreign word except in whispers in his house; it became a foreign concept after his mother had left. He'd never been encouraged to show anything that might be constituted as love – his Pa would clip him over the ear at the suggestion of any _weakness_; so he'd learnt to mask his feelings with roughness and he'd taught that survival skill to Daryl for his own protection. He literally had no clue how to actually go about expressing his feelings – except anger.

_And who says she would _want_ to know that a drugged up, no-good son of a bitch redneck loves her? _

She was better than him – she deserved better than him. She deserved a man who could look after her, treasure her, treat her like a princess – like her husband had. It wasn't like she could ever actually love _him_.

_Only a Dixon could love a Dixon._

It was a mantra he'd heard all his life – like it was some type of joke. Certainly it explained the marriages that the Dixon men were in. His own Mama, who had been beaten within an inch of her life that many times, his aunt Tammy who gave as good as she got to the slighter, but elder by a couple of minutes and therefore richer, brother Elwood Dixon, whose name he been given; even his grandmother Reba who poured verbal acid on her deceased spouse while still resenting Mama anytime she didn't manage to hide the bruised inflicted by her son. His own cousins, Delbert and Henry, had married women (sisters) because they had knocked them up and their father had held a shotgun to their heads.

He _could _have said it _that _afternoon when he helped her dress and pulled the covers over her, the emotional energy having exhausted her almost as much as any physical activity. Instead he sat with her as she slept.

He _could _have said it that night when he had crawled onto her right side and she had given him a look. Instead he had smiled like the cat that had just got the cream and he had moved his body over to her left side, making sure every inch of his body contacted hers in the change.

He _could _have said it as his arm traced up in between her breasts and his hand curled around one soft curve. Instead he had pulled her close, falling asleep to its soft beat in his palm.

He _could_ have said that first morning when he had woken up alone to a slightly rasping sound and scared both her and Dog by sitting up abruptly with a gun pointed at her, mid exercise. Instead he had stared at her for a moment, then sworn (he got a frown for that sort of language in a church) and lay back with his arms behind his head to appreciate the view.

He _could_ have said it any of the next few mornings when he'd watched her do those same exercises, moving her arms and legs around in practised moves that lacked only the sword. Instead by the time she had finished his body had moved his mind to a different type of loving thought.

He _could_ have said it the day that he walked in to find her kneeling before the Virgin Mary, the photo of Jenny in her hand, and remembered the significance of the day. Instead he sat down on the pew behind her, wrapping his arms around her and lowered his head to the crook of her neck and stayed there with her until the tears stopped flowing.

He _could _have written it on the note that he left the fourth morning before he got in the car. Instead he had left it on the bed next to her and patted Dog once as he left her alone.

Merle slammed on the brakes as he caught a glimpse of the angry face in the side mirror. She didn't flinch as the car jerked to a halt only inches away from her; her hair scruffy from the pillow, barefoot and clad only in those ridiculous pyjamas that she had returned to now that they were safely inside again.

"Wha' tha fuck are ya doin' woman?" he demanded harshly as he stood out of the car. "Ya could 'ave..."

"Don't you fucking start with me Merle Elwood Dixon," she interrupted and he winced _fuck she'd dragged out his middle name_. "What exactly is this piece of shit?" she waved a piece of paper in his face.

"A note," he started again.

"A note?" she over-rode him again, shrilly. "'Gone shopping'" she read sarcastically. "What – you had to get there before the shop closed?"

"Ya were asleep," he replied, starting to resent what was being directed his way and leaning slightly in.

"And you couldn't wake me?" she snapped, not at all overawed by his display.

"For wha'?" he demanded. "Ya ain't comin'."

That threw her off her stride. "I beg your pardon?"

"Ya not strong enough," he continued. "Ya can lift tha bow and you can make it around tha yard a couple o' times, but that does ya in for a couple hours."

"I can watch ...," she began to argue.

"Fuck no," Merle shouted, cutting off that thought and refusing to feel guilt when she started a little at his volume and vehemence only a few inches from her face. "Ya ain't leavin' t'is place until ya all 'ealed."

Her eyes narrowed at that, she suspected something he knew. He'd refused to move the bed from the church when she'd made a slight suggestion, arguing that there were more ways out of the church than there was in the attached house. He hadn't pushed at all for them to move; in fact he'd almost fought against every move that she'd tried to make to test out her progress of healing.

"So what?" her tone was measured now. "You thought you'd just go off without telling me where you were going?"

Merle growled at the injustice of that and pointed at the note.

"'Gone shopping'," she read again, but this time with irony. "Which shop Merle? The weapons 'shop'? The one where we left a gaping big hole in the window for the geeks to wander in? The grocery shop? The one with the glitch already on the inside? What," she continued, "was meant to happen if you didn't come back?"

"I ain't going to get done in by any dumb geeks," he groused, feeling slight uncomfortable that she may have a point here. It got worse when she just gave him a look. "Only a Dixon can kill a Dixon," he muttered.

As far back as he knew that was true. There'd been old Arzula Dixon, his own father's grandfather, who'd buried his wife in childbirth and had decided that the game in the northern Georgia mountains didn't offer enough sport and so he'd headed up to Canada to tackle a bear. Problem was that the bear tackled back and that had been the end of him. His own grandfather Elwood, who'd distilled and then run whiskey across the border during the Prohibition. He'd been crossing a bridge when he'd seen the marshals on his trail – instead of dumping the load and making off through the woods untraceably like all Dixons could, he'd tied up the donkey and taken out a stick of dynamite. He'd lit the fuse with a quick swipe across one of the rocks – but he'd lit a bit close to the stick. There hadn't been much of him to find. Merle's father had pretty much drunk himself to death, given himself liver cancer and Reba Dixon, that matriarch who'd given her daughters-in-law hell for every minute of every day, she had died of a heart attack in the middle of a screaming fit at her eldest son.

"So they're only two Dixons in the world hey Merle?" she challenged. He blinked at her and she sighed. "The world is different now Merle. Other people can and will do what previously only a Dixon could, or would, do." _Fear makes even good people do funny things_ she thought. "Please don't leave me alone."

He should have said it then, hearing a slight echo of the panic that had been in her voice when she had last screamed those words. But he couldn't. So he did what he could.

"I ain't leavin' ya sugar," he murmured and pulled her into his embrace, kissing the top of her head. "I ain't leavin' ya."

He started training her from then, harking back to his days in the military. Morning, noon and night they worked out. They ran around the church grounds, jogging at a consistent pace, sprinting at intervals, climbing up trees. Gradually the distances increased, and then he added weight to their loads – her sword, her crossbow, a backpack full of tins for him. Dog added an extra dimension to the training by running with them and then randomly darting off to chase something more interesting, making them swerve or jump to avoid him. He supervised while she drilled on the crossbow, correcting the slight adjustments her arm wanted her to make to avoid pulling at the still healing muscles. The first time she only just made half a dozen shots before she pulled up, white as a sheet with an aching arm. The next time she made 8, then 10, then 15 consecutively and he was almost ready to call her ready to leave. Then he noticed her hiss one time as she removed her bra and so, after a heartfelt prayer to whichever guardian angel or patron saint was responsible for that particular aspect of timing, he delayed their departure.

Once he mused about the direction that they were going. "Maybe we should 'ead ta Washington."

"Why?" Marion opened an eye and looked at him lazily from her position in the sun. "You change your mind about where Daryl went?"

"Na," Merle shook his head. "Just t'ought – well, ya know since ya lived t'rough it." She still looked at him blankly and part of him heard the warning bells. "Washin'ton is more likely ta 'ave some scientists – someone who migh' know wha' ta do? Some who migh' be able ta figure it out," he added.

"Why the fuck should I help them Merle?" her voice was incredibly cold and he blinked at the savageness in the curse. Dog whined, lifting his head from the small of Merle's back – but she ignored him. "What did they ever do for me?" she continued harshly. "The people at the motel – who locked me in with my dead and dying family. The people in the convoy who didn't want me there because I wasn't American. The National Guard who held a gun to my head? The groups of men who have tried to rape me?" she paused to take a breath. "Why the fuck should I help any of them?" she repeated and snorted, putting her head back and closing her eyes. "I owe them nothing. We're going to find your brother."

Merle contemplated her for a few moments, her teeth gritted together in her jaw, her whole being stiffened. _This _was not his woman. He thought for a moment about what she said and his mouth opened to ask her to explain exactly what she meant by them. But he closed it without saying anything. She'd tell him when she was ready – if she ever became ready. His job was to be there for her, to help her in whatever she had to do, not to tell her what to do. So he turned back to his magazine quietly, but he lifted a foot and laid it carefully next to her thigh on the chair. There was a moment and then her hand moved, wrapping around the back of his calf. He heard one sniff only and then they sat in comfortable silence, both drawing comfort from that simple touch.

It was three weeks to the day when he double checked Penny's water and food supply then threw the tarp over the top of her cage and banged on the last of the boxes to make sure the lid was latched tight on their new supplies.

The trip into town a couple of days earlier had been tense; as she had surmised, the opening in the window of the weapons store had allowed a number of geeks to wander in. These had been easily dispatched, Marion wielding the sword with deadly efficiency and Merle driving his own blade through their heads. They hadn't really needed much, but Merle had wanted to top up the ammunition that he'd depleted, knowing that similar opportunities could be few and far in between. The grocery store was a whole different exercise. Based on the large locks that they'd cut off the doors the last time they had entered it was obvious that there had been people locked in, likely while they were still healthy. But they hadn't been alone. The place was over-run with those who had come in to buy, maybe in a panic, and hadn't been quick enough to get out. There were scrapes on the door where they had scratched and clawed in a desperate attempt to get out. Merle surveyed this dispassionately from the air conditioning duct that they had accessed the shop this time around. _Life was life, death was death, it was it was._ He was surprised however that Marion showed no emotion over the fate of those who'd been left to die, probably for the 'greater good'. She had used all of her calculated intelligence to get them into the grocery store and to get the majority of the geeks out, and then Merle had locked the doors. The doors had trembled under the weight of the geeks who pressed against them trying to get back in, but they'd held. She'd dispatched any geeks that had remained on the inside with a kind of ruthlessness which would have worried Merle except that he saw her falter at the sight of the young girl, dragging her half eaten legs along the lino floor to get to them. He'd stepped in quickly to dispatch it, and Marion's eyes had filled with tears. _She wasn't cold_ he realised; _she just had no guilt anymore._ She'd moved from seeing these things as people to what they were – shells, shells that would have no mercy or consideration. He was glad – it would help keep her alive.

He turned now, looking up at the church once, and then walked back into the house to find her. Of course he knew she wouldn't be there and sure enough, he found her and Dog seated at the front pew in front of the figure of Mary. They'd cleaned the church, moved the mattress into the priest's bedroom, and rearranged the pews – although she hadn't insisted that he fix the one he'd broken.

"We don't hafta leave if ya don't want to," he said in the silence.

Marion looked up at him and smiled. "We won't find Daryl staying here Merle."

He shrugged. He'd made that choice outside of Fort Benning, and if anything he'd only committed himself more. But he had a feeling she wouldn't like that – _You don't make deals with God Merle_ he could almost hear her say. Well he had – and he was sticking with it. But she was looking at him funny – as far she knew there was no reason for them to stay here; he could almost hear her mind ticking over. "T'is place made ya better."

Her eyes widened in sudden realisation, her mind making sense of the little things. "My recovery wasn't a miracle Merle."

There was enough amusement in her eyes and her tone to turn him defensive. "Well wha' tha hell else was it?"

"A biological anomaly," she replied simply. "In every population there is a slight difference amongst the DNA of the species – a slight difference that allows the survival of the species in case of disease. Why do you think Australia still has rabbits? (1) Whatever horrible disease we throw at them there is always at least two that survive – they breed and all of a sudden the entire population is resistant." She was looking at him earnestly. "There're probably others that are immune to the disease – maybe they died because of the extent of their injuries, I did only just get bitten, maybe they died in the bombings, maybe they just don't know yet."

"Maybe I didn't even get infected," she continued. "Maybe the fabric of the tent absorbed the virus, maybe you did bleed it out. Maybe my fever was because of Dog's bite, maybe it was from the pig goring."

Merle allowed himself a snort at that theory. He'd seen infected dog bites; he'd seen what a pig could leave behind. _That _hadn't been what he'd seen her go through.

"Maybe," she suggested in response to his reaction, "it was the antibiotics I already had in my bloodstream. Maybe it was the pig DNA mixing with mine," she shrugged. "They use pigs as test subjects for human drugs all the time, maybe it interacted with the virus and killed it."

"There's no miracle here Merle," she said softly. "It's time to go."

He nodded once and turned, glancing once at the figure of Jesus; _JC _he nodded again before leaving her in the silence of the church.

Marion sat still for another few moments. She believed in miracles, she believed that Jesus performed miracles, that saints were able to perform miracles. But she knew that most miracles weren't actually miraculous actions – the parting of the Red Sea was a natural phenomenon – it happened when the outgoing tide was so much faster than the natural flow (2). It wasn't a miracle that it parted to let the Jews escape – the miracle was that it happened when it did. She believed in the power of prayer, that if you asked for it that you would be given the tools that you needed. Her mouth twitched as she remembered the joke about the priest and the flood (2).

She stood, casting her eyes up to the statue of Jesus. She was grateful that her life had been spared and she would thank God every day for that. But she could not accept that she had been touched by His direct action. She knew why she had lived and that was why she had lied to Merle – because she did see a miracle in her recovery but she didn't think he was ready to hear it. Slowly she lowered herself to the ground, crossing herself. "The miracle was that you stayed with me." _Thankyou Lord._

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Back when I was a little girl and I _started _thinking about this story I came upon a few fics which I either didn't commence reading or pulled up because I thought that there could have been potential similarity; 'Bullet in Chamber' by Harley Marie Morgan, 'Four years Later' by Senior Chicko Man, 'The Immue' by Starsinger. Plus I notice now that there looks to be another 'Master of Art' by terramari. I have no idea of the status of these stories – however if there is any similarity, it is purely co-incidental due to great minds thinking alike!

(1) Poor little bunnies.

(2) I remember this from a priest's sermon. Looking on the internet the current theory is that wind could have done it – the moral to the story is the same.

(3) If you don't know it - type priest, flood and joke into Google and you'll get a few variations.


	66. Chapter 66

Character development chapter and a little bit of gratuitous M rated material. It didn't really separate as such – so if it starts to read like M then that's what it is until the end of the chapter and there will be no further plot development from that point on!

Chapter 66

"Ya fuckin' wit' me ain't ya," growled Merle to himself, shaking a droplet off his nose as he squinted at the rope he was tying.

The trip through Sylacauga had been uneventful. Their wall of geeks, reinforced every couple of days by Merle, had kept the majority of the remainder away and the glitch, having been moved backwards and forwards in their recent trip to town had come to an aimless halt without the scent of warm flesh to follow. The highway was also still clear from their last trip north on it and they drove past the place where the tent still remained shortly after lunch. Neither of them looked. Then it had started to rain and their progress had slowed – windscreen wipers were fine but only if they could go quick enough to keep the water off the glass. The deluge continued for the afternoon; they turned more easterly as they approached the outer reaches of Birmingham, finding the lesser roads in a hope to avoid the traffic snarls and what was likely to be a large concentration of geeks in the populated area. It was going to take them a couple of weeks to track around the city and find their way back to the road but both of them preferred that option.

It had hit him mid morning that they were driving _away _from the church and what that had meant last time. His body had reacted immediately to the remembrance and Marion had glanced at him curiously when his foot had depressed the accelerator in reflex. He'd gritted his teeth and forced his body under control, backing off and dropping the speed back to a more acceptable 50. She hadn't given him any indication that she was thinking of the coming night – but then she hadn't either of the other nights either. She _was _touching him a lot, but then she had been since _that _afternoon. She might not feel up to it – she was only sitting in a car, but travelling could be tiring, but she was lithe and fit. _Hell – both of them were. _ He was thinner than he'd been in years, not an extra ounce of flesh that wasn't needed and muscled. His stamina had returned, despite the years of abuse. He looked years younger than he was – except for his face. It was thin and lined, showing the strain of years that could not be erased. Only his eyes looked lighter than perhaps they had before.

The rain had eased a little by the time that they had seen the rest stop and pulled into it. She'd strapped the scabbard on immediately, holding the loaded crossbow in an easy grip that nevertheless could be adjusted at a moment's notice. Dog had run about, happy to be out of the car, and gradually they had relaxed. She'd gone looking in the car, dragging out the ankle length oilskin that she'd picked up ('as close to a Drizabone I'll find' she'd muttered at the time) and throwing him the shorter waterproof jacket that he'd selected before letting Penny out for a scratch around the trees.

They'd gone on the perimeter search together – he'd bugged her a little by being over protective, just as he had a when they'd gone to the grocery store. He'd known it and he tried, but when they ran into the mini glitch of geeks about half hour walk from the car he'd reacted without thinking, pushing her out of the way. He'd fouled her shot and he'd heard her curse as the bolt thwacked into the tree behind the geek that she'd aimed at. The others were upon them and she'd only managed one more shot before there was a scrape of steel and the sword had come out. It was a short fight and when it had finished she had glared at him over the top of the body.

"What the hell was that Merle?" she'd demanded.

"Wha'?" he'd snapped back, although he knew. And she knew he knew so she just tipped her head slightly and gave him a look. "I was just protecting ya," he groused.

"I don't need protecting Merle," she had said more gently than perhaps he expected. "I just need you to have my back."

_She was right_. She was fit – damn but the woman was sleek, she still had her curves (nothing but a surgeon's knife could get rid of those) but her arms were tight from the crossbow, her legs firm from the running they had been doing, her belly was almost washboard tight. Only her face retained any bit of spare flesh, giving her a slight softness. She'd drilled that much with the bow that he reckoned she'd give Daryl a run for his money; she had worked with the sword until it was almost an extension of her arm. She still couldn't hold the gun right – but she could put a bullet pretty much where it needed to go and give her the light rifle with the scope and she cut shoot the dick off a blowfly.

Instinct was instinct though. And his told him to protect her, to get between her and danger. To make sure that nothing ever _ever _got close enough to hurt her again. So he put his body in between her and danger, putting himself in more danger by trying to take some of the load from her.

_She wouldn't accept that though _he'd realised. He couldn't treat her like a helpless little princess. Even before her physical condition improved she was a fiercely independent woman and resented him doing things that she could well do for herself, although she wasn't stupid and could accept that he was just better at doing some things than she was. _He would just have to be smarter about it_ he'd decided and nodded once to her.

There was a scitter through the leaves and Merle's hand dropped to his gun as he whirled, but he relaxed as he saw Dog running through the leaves, his head and tail sopping but his body protected by the layer of pig fat that Merle had been able to get into his coat during their extended stay at the church. He waited for the ten seconds needed until Marion made her way out from around the trees, smiling once as she saw him.

Marion cast her eyes to the little shelter that he had created, one of their tarps on the ground with their mattress on top covered with blankets. The second tarp had been strung between four trees, about his chest height at one end dropping to waist height at the other. (Their third tarp was still overtop Penny's cage.) He'd dug a trench to catch the water dripping off and divert it away from them. _No tent_ she'd told him that day they'd gone to the weapons store. He'd turned, his hand still on the tightly wrapped bundle, his face a picture of confusion. "I don't think I could sleep in one Merle," she'd explained. The thought of being trapped within walls which didn't keep the danger out had put a little tremor in her voice. He'd understood immediately and had left the tent where it was without saying another word, although she knew that he'd thought about the fact that it was still winter and that they were going north where it would be colder for longer. She looked at the shelter again – it offered only the basic protection from the elements. The rain wouldn't get them, but the cold was seeping through her boots and clothes – it would only get worse later in the night.

"I should have let you get that tent," she admitted guiltily.

He gave her a glance. "We'll cope sugar."

_He was still worrying too much about her_ she thought. And she supposed that was fair enough. She had no real recollection of being sick – but she'd seen what that short illness had done to her body, she knew it would have been rough on him, he who probably had never nursed anyone unless his brother had been sick. And from what he had told her of Daryl, the boy then man wouldn't have allowed anything as mundane as an illness affect him. But she didn't want him treating her with kid gloves, she wanted him to treat her like his partner – someone he could rely on when he needed to, someone who was his equal _in most things anyway_. She smirked – _Merle just would never be equalled in a lot of ways_. She watched him fussing over the shelter some more. _She would just have to be smarter about it _she thought.

"Hungry?" she asked.

Dinner was a simple affair out of tins, the rain preventing the lighting of a fire. They sat next to each other under the pattering of rain on the tarp, sharing from each other's tins and alternatively throwing something to Dog and Penny both of whom seemed to have no aversion to the steady rain. The night arrived a little early because of the rain and Marion put Penny away in her cage, extracting the egg that she had left there earlier. Merle had taken the gun to do a quick perimeter check – she'd let him go alone but taken note of where he'd gone and breathed a thankful sigh when he returned within the time that he said he would be.

Dog sat down next to the blankets, waiting for them to settle down. He watched patiently as Marion pulled off her boots, kneeling down to place the crossbow down on the tarp before jabbing the sword into the ground just off the edge of the tarp. The dagger was jabbed just next to it. Dog's head flicked to Merle as he bent over to step under the tarp, and then lowered himself to his knees pulling out his blade and sliding it under his pillow. Dog's ears flicked at the slight click of the gun as Merle checked it was fully loaded before placing it on the tarp next to the bed. Dog turned his head to watch Marion pull off the oilskin then back to Merle as he pulled off his jacket. Dog's nose twitched as silence fell under the tarp and they each laid the coats down near the end of the blankets. Dog's head tipped in confusion as they looked at each other, kneeling without about half a metre between them.

Merle stared at her, her brown eyes focused on his.

_Ya got stage fright or what big brother? All ya thought about for the last couple of weeks was banging her._

His body was almost trembling, he wanted her so much. But he held himself back. This was going to be more than just a fuck, this was Marion, this was the woman he loved. This was going to _mean_ something. That was a first for him.

Marion hesitated. She wanted to touch him, she wanted his hands to touch her. But he seemed almost hesitant and she was confused. _Had something changed? Did he not want her anymore?_ Given what he had done under the tree, how he had held her every night since then, how his eyes had burned whenever he had seen her undress, that didn't make sense. But here he was _still not touching her._

Dog shook vigorously, shaking the water off his coat and fur, his tail flicking a concentrated stream of water over both of them. Marion ducked, "Dog!" she giggled, wiping the water off her face and looking up and finding Merle much closer than he had been, also grinning with droplets of water running down the right side of his face. She lifted her hand and gently wiped the drops off him.

Merle looked into the laughing brown eyes _damn but she was beautiful when she laughed_ and felt her hand touch him gently. He lifted his own hand and laid it against her cheek, mimicking her actions. Her eyes closed and she leaned her face slightly into his palm. He leaned in and covered her mouth with his own – gently, softly, feeling her lips under his. Tingles started from the base of his spine, igniting a fire within his belly and his mouth became more insistent, his hand dropping down to meet his stump around her backside and dragging her bodily so she was hard up against him.

The contact of his body onto hers; his muscled chest against her soft curves; the hardening bulge in his jeans against her own awakening centre made her gasp. She tracked her hands across the sharp stubble that covered his head, pulling him harder against her, opening her mouth further as he responded with a forceful tongue. His own hand came up and took a gentle hold of her hair to pull it back and she shivered as he planted soft kisses down her throat. He pulled away a little and she looked at him for a moment, then down to his hand which was fumbling a little with the buttons of his shirt that she was wearing. She smirked a little triumphantly as he opened the last and pushed it back and beheld her naked underneath it with an open mouth and some sort of strangled sound– but her smirk vanished as reached under her and lifted her up so that he could reach his mouth to one of her breasts, kissing it gently. His stump raked up along her side and she moaned at the delicious tingling that followed it.

All doubt had left him the moment he saw her braless chest. Merle rolled her within his arms, laying her down amongst the blankets and lowered his mouth to her belly, feeling it shudder as he placed a soft kiss next to her belly button, then another and another as he worked his way back up to her. He brought his hand up along the inside of her thigh and pressed hard against the juncture just as he took a nipple between his teeth and ever so carefully nibbled at it. Her hands grasped at his shoulders, her nails digging into him just a little as she arched with pleasure and he smirked. His hand tracked up her side until he cupped the other soft curve, rubbing his thumb across its peak and hearing a most unladylike curse gasped from her lips – his blood boiled. Her hands moved then, finding the edge of his shirt and tugging at it, sliding it up until she could get her hands onto his chest where she deployed her fingernails with devastating effect on his own nipples. He groaned and took her mouth; she met him eagerly, twisting her tongue with him, demanding that he give her access to his mouth so that she could taste every part of him.

He sat up suddenly, grabbing at the base of the shirt halfway up his torso and ripping it off. He came out to find that she'd sat up with him and her mouth closed on his the same time that her bare breasts pressed up against his chest. She applied pressure to one shoulder and he allowed her to push him over, rolling with her in his arms until he held her on top of him. She adjusted her knees and pulled out of his arms, deliberately picking up one arm and depositing it above his head, then the other. He growled lightly but lay still as she traced her finger tips slowly down from one wrist to his chest, eyes following each curve of the muscles, lips tipping upwards slightly as she saw them clench as he fought for control. She lowered her lips to the upper corner of his, moving away slightly as he moved his face, feathering kisses everywhere around his lips, then moving over the side of his face to his ear. His whole body twitched as she took the lobe between her teeth and pulled.

"Sugar," he breathed and her lips curved as she tracked down his neck, wiping her breasts over his chest as her mouth made its way to a nipple, picking it up between her teeth and pulling. Her hand continued to move over his belly, tracing along the top of his belt with one fingernail before moving over and cupping the hardness that was pushed against his jeans. Bracing herself she moved the second hand to that region and with quick movements his belt and zipper were undone and her hand had freed his shaft from its confines and was wrapped around him, rolling a calloused thumb over its tip.

He surged over then, taking control and planting her on her back with himself in between her legs. She giggled, not at all upset to have lost control, but her laughter was muffled by his mouth taking everything that she had. He pulled away only to take a firm hold of her jeans and pull them down over her thighs. She lifted her knees and reached down to pull them off the rest of the way – moaning as he took the provided opportunity to press his mouth to her centre. Her legs burst free from the confines of her pants and her legs wrapped around his waist. He buried his tongue inside her and she shuddered, arching backwards. Her hands grabbed at him and reefed up wards – he paused only long enough to wipe his mouth on his arm before he was plundering her mouth with his tongue, her own hands busy at his waist for a moment before pushing down his pants. He sat up and finished the job, then pressed himself fully against her, feeling her warm wet folds against his tip, her breasts against his chest and kissed her.

"Please Merle," she whispered to him. He reached his hand underneath her head and pulled out the foil packet. She took if from him, keeping her eyes on his as she ripped it open, looking away briefly as she placed the condom over him and then back to his eyes as she delicately rolled down his shaft. Merle moaned with the sensation of her hands on him and grabbed her wrist to plant it above her head.

He hesitated, his body held above hers by his stump, his hand around her breast and playing with the nipple that thrust itself out at him. _He was so much bigger than her_.

"I'm not going to break Merle" she said in the stillness.

"You might" he breathed, still poised at her entrance. He had seen her bodily broken, fragile and weak. The only thing worse than losing her would be hurting her and he was scared – not so much that he would physically hurt her, but that by doing this he was admitting something. Something he wasn't sure he was cut out for.

She saw something of that in his eyes and she smiled, reaching up with one hand to draw his face down to her. She didn't want to ambush him with any declarations right at this minute, but she poured her feelings into her kiss – her love for him, her need for him. Then, as he was distracted, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him into her. She gasped as he filled her, her nerve endings alight and clamouring.

Merle stopped breathing as she pulled herself onto him, accepting his length in a way that he had never felt before. He felt the tide of desire push at him – but he had a moment of doubt – he looked up in sudden anxiety at Dog.

Dog snoozed a couple of metres away near the edge of the tarp out of the way of their tangle of bodies, only the twitch of his ears indicating that he was awake and on guard.

Merle looked down as she looked back at him – she smiled.

He moved – and all capacity for coherent thought was lost.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..


	67. Chapter 67

Chapter 67

"So whatda reckon?" he breathed into her ear.

She turned to look up at him, her eyes dancing. "What – so _now_ it's my choice?"

"Shudup," he muttered with an inner shudder, still a little shaken whenever he thought about how close it had been. The sight of the dogs roaring into the trees where he had left her and being unable to do a thing about it had chilled him to the bone. "Fuckin' near killed me."

_And ate you_ Marion shivered in disgust. She hadn't been all that keen to approach the group, Dog had been carrying his tail between his legs. But Merle had thought that was just because the others had large dogs with them; they had radios and he wanted a pair. So he had scoffed at her and based on her last choice of people to approach she had backed down.

They had not travelled as well as they had expected in the three months since they had left St Judes. The glitches originating from Birmingham had been savage, they'd had to detour almost back onto themselves to avoid the worst of them and ended up far closer to Nashville than they had intended. They'd also had several encounters with the living. They'd decided early that while they would trade where possible, that any approaches would be made singly with the other and the car hidden. The choice of who walked into the trade was based on their assessment of the group.

The first group they had encountered were on a farm that they'd ended up at while trying to find a way around a dismantled bridge. Marion had walked up the driveway, her heart in her mouth and her hands held out; Merle and Dog had kept pace with her as best they could through the trees but had been forced to stop at the edge of the tree line. A voice had challenged her and she had stopped, reassuring it that she came in peace and only wanted to trade. She had put the backpack down and held her hands up as the figure had come out of the house pointing a shotgun at her. The command to lift her shirt and spin had however sent a shiver down her spine – but she had obeyed and then managed to talk quick enough to stop herself getting a load of buckshot in her rear end and the old man getting a bullet between the eyes. They'd stayed for a couple of days, Merle helping with some of the heavier maintenance activities that winter always brought to a farm and Marion helping out inside the house with his three small granddaughters. The groups had parted amicably, Marion and Merle with large stone containers full of cheese and milk, a side of beef and the back way across the river, but both convinced that the other was going to die because of their decision.

Marion had approached the lone man that they'd encountered next, this time without a weapon. Merle had stepped out with the rifle held to his eye as the other man had brandished a gun at her. There had been a tense few moments while there was a standoff, Marion frantically trying to talk both men down. It had been she who had seen that the magazine in the man's gun was empty and insisted that Merle lower his weapon. The man had pushed his shopping trolley on again (1) without accepting what Marion would have given him and she had cried in Merle's arms that night.

They learned the lesson and she approached the small cottage they found next with her sword on her back and crossbow in hand. The group of four men and two women that had come out to greet her had been friendly though, welcoming even when she explained that there was a rifle pointed at them the whole time. There had been food shared and information exchanged, talk about places they had been and what they had seen; Marion had refined the path that they were going to take to Seward based on what was said (they wouldn't be going anywhere near Memphis). However when night had come, the exact nature of the group became a little more apparent. Marion had first stiffened, then sat bolt upright and then buried her head under the pillow at the sounds that originated out from the small log cabin the group shared the first night. Merle had had a different reaction, his brows rising and a long smirk growing across his face. His hand had wandered across Marion's body and got the slap that he expected, so he'd lifted himself from their bed and made his way over to the window despite her horrified gasp. What he had seen through the window had quickly wiped the smirk from his face and he'd returned back to her, pulling her firmly against him. He'd met one of the men's suggestive smiles the next morning with a stony face, after very little sleep, and told them they were going.

They had avoided another couple of encounters, the numbers of one group, while looking decent enough too many to risk. They had both been pretty sickened by the sight of a gladiator style fight between a bespeckled young man and a geek with only one arm, but the crowd surrounding them had prevented them from doing anything about it and they had driven in a wide arc around them. Neither of them had said much that night.

The convoy of HMMWVs had caught their attention late one afternoon and they had hidden the car to approach more closely on foot. Marion had been excited to see the military uniforms, but also a bit hesitant after the Georgian Defensive Army incident. After studying them for a while though Merle had decided that they were in fact _real_ military and she had made ready to walk in. He had stopped her though and set himself up to go, figuring that they would deal with him better. Dog had whined as Merle had stepped out of the trees, Merle had turned to give her a wink and Marion had laid her hand over Dog's head. She had then leaned against a tree, bracing the rifle in her hands and focusing the scope – for a short time on Merle's rear end before forcing herself to be a little more professional and turning to the where the sentries had even now spotted him and had lifted their own rifles. "Old McDonald had a farm ee-aye, ee-aye oh," she murmured. "And on that farm, he shot some guys... ba da-boom, ba da-bing bang boom. (2)" But Merle had seemed to be speaking amicably to what appeared to be an officer that had been summoned, they were inspecting the bag that Merle had taken down with him, loaded with a couple of bottles on the finest whiskey and rum that he'd found and some of the beef jerky they still had from the farm. There'd been laughter and she was starting to relax when suddenly Merle was fighting them. She'd lifted the rifle with intent but caught his 'no' signal and had lowered it. She'd stared for perhaps two seconds before she noticed the shepherds had been released. "Oops – time to go Dog." They'd barrelled through the trees, deliberately moving away from the car and hearing the dogs coming up on them quickly. Marion had grabbed Dog and tossed him up into a tree and braced the trunk behind her, and brought the crossbow to bear – the first snarling hound had fallen without a sound but the other three were coming quickly – too quick. She'd thrown the bow down and drawn the sword, holding the knife in the other hand. The second had jumped from too far away and too far ahead of his fellows – she had lined him up and taken his head off. The third had launched a lower attack at her but she had moved the sword and its momentum had impaled it onto the blade. The fourth was smarter and had approached her slower, snarling and growling with its head down. Marion had held the blade like Merle had taught her, hearing the noises of the following men getting closer. Dog had launched himself from the tree and latched onto the shepherd's tail – Marion had dived forward while it was distracted and ground the knife into the shepherd's head.

She'd fled from the men, using what she could from what Merle had taught her of moving undetected through the trees but relying on Dog's sense of direction to take her back to camp. Merle had been locked up in a cage, a sturdy one by the look of the punishment it was taking but it hadn't been until she was creeping around to get closer to him and trod on the skulls that she realised why he was where he was.

Marion now examined the group in front of her – camped next to a pond. They were all women: there was an athletic, tall young woman with shoulder length brown hair; a pretty young thing with blond hair standing next to her holding a crying baby. A black woman could be seen pacing up and down over the weir, her hiking shoes splashing as she stepped through the shallow water overflowing. There were six tents set up in a semi circle arrangement, a fire burning in the middle of them with what appeared to be half a sheep hanging off a spit. As she watched, what could have been an older lady based on the greying short hair moved out of the shadow of one of the tents, throwing a pair of jeans over her shoulder and picking up an old rag to turn the spit. They all looked fit, but healthy – they weren't starving. Their clothes were worn, but not ragged and Marion's brows rose as she watched the grey haired woman meticulously fold the pair of jeans and lay them down on one of the piles that she had created. A number of cars were lined up on the other side of the tents, pointed out to the road – she couldn't see how many because the one closest to her was a large red 4WD.

"Possibility," she concluded. "They look pretty well set up though – where are the men?"

She heard his smirk, as he knew she would, and he swayed out of the way of the backhanded slap that she flung almost lazily his way. "That's not what I meant! There're too many tents just for them and I'm sure I heard men's voices down by the river. We might not have anything they want."

"Well I can tell ya sugar – if t'at black chick is a carpet muncher ya'll be closin' ya eyes and t'inkin' o' ya queen if t'at's wha' it takes for some o' t'at lamb."

Marion fought the grin even as she rolled her eyes _one step forward and two steps back_.

There was another piercing wail and Dog whined. Merle snorted "But by tha look of t'at and sound of t'at I reckon t'ey'll give us anyt'ing for t'at bag o' baby shit ta shut it up b'fore it drags tha geeks down on us."

Marion watched the young girl turn desperate eyes to the brunette next to her, and bounce the baby a bit. It had been the cries which had attracted them to start with, the shrillness of the sound distressing Dog. They'd arrived at their camp – only about a kilometre away earlier in the day, setting up next to the creek which looked like it originated from this same pond. The sound of voices had travelled disturbingly well along the water and they had been debating about moving before the sound of a baby had come about. Merle had given up then on any argument of getting her to leave – he knew that she would want to at least check it out before she wilfully ignored the potential for a baby to be in danger.

She nodded. "I'll go in."

Marion walked down the road slowly, looking down it towards the vehicles, seeing a silver ute not too dis-similar to their own vehicle and a small green hatch back hiding behind the red truck. Her interest was piqued however when she saw what appeared to be handle bars poking over the top of the hatch's bonnet _maybe Merle would be able to find someone to talk bikes with_. Over the other side of the pond she could see a few more figures, an older man and a blond woman with what looked like a young boy. She had been seen now, she could see the black woman striding in from the weir, a sword (Marion blinked) in her hands and the pretty blond was being pushed to the rear as the other two came forward: they left the guns in their waistbands but their hands were close to them. Marion held up her hands, holding her sword lightly in her left and the backpack in the other, coming slowly.

"That's far enough," growled out the black woman, holding the sword steadily just above the ground with both hands.

Marion halted obediently. "I come in peace," she said lightly but noticed that not a flicker of amusement crossed the woman's face. She glanced at the others – they weren't relaxing either. "I'm just travelling through – I thought perhaps I might have something that I could trade with you?"

"You alone?" demanded the woman with the grey hair and Marion looked into her piercing blue eyes, seeing that she was actually much younger than she'd thought, only a few years older than herself.

"No," Marion replied honestly. The women tensed and the black woman whipped around, her dreadlocks flashing. "I said I come in peace – not that I was stupid." She watched them for a few moments. "My name is Marion," she offered. There was no response and she sighed _tough crowd_. Her arms were starting to protest. "Look – I'm just going to put these down, if that's ok with you?" She slowly lowered the backpack carefully down but slammed the sword down so it stuck in the ground, hilt up towards her hand.

"You got any more weapons on you?" demanded the grey haired lady, again taking the initiative.

"No," Marion lied and flicked up her shirt to expose her belly and then turned, showing them her bare back. The contraption had taken a bit of work, and a bit of practice, but her knife was held securely behind her bra and exposing her lower back actually made it harder to spot by doubling up the fabric.

"Whatcha got?" demanded the brunette imperiously.

Marion reached forward and opened the top of the backpack. "Nappies – well you call them diapers I suppose, dumm... pacifiers, some baby formula, baby medicine, condoms," she added dryly and thought she caught a glimpse of the beginning of a smile from the grey hair. She cast a glance up at the young girl still trying to quiet the fussing baby. "I have an ipod here with about 30hours of battery life, rechargeable batteries too if you can manage to find some power somewhere."

Involuntarily the girl's eyes widened; the grey hair and brunette looked at each other.

"What do you want?" growled the black woman.

"Information," replied Marion simply. "What you've seen, where you've seen it – anything that is going to help us get to where we want to go. And maybe a part of that roast for myself and friends." She didn't try and hide the longing in her voice. "I have to admit that I'm pretty much over squirrel and rabbit and we haven't seen a deer for a while." They had in fact seen many deer, but Marion refused to kill the stags protecting their herds full of fawns.

Grey hair gave a slight smirk _so they were no stranger to squirrel either?_

"That's all?" demanded the woman with the sword suspiciously. "You don't want anything else?"

Marion turned to her. "No. And if you don't want this, then I'll just turn and go." There was silence and Marion nodded, picking up the bag and reaching for her sword.

"Wait," said grey hair abruptly. Marion turned and looked at her and was greeted with a slight smile. "We could use those baby supplies – you're welcome to come and share some of our meal with us."

"Where're your friends?" asked the brunette, the cynical look not seeming to suit her face.

"Not too far away," Marion avoided, passing the bag up to her and watched as the PYT took it and retreated to one of the tents, the baby still fussing in her arms. "But not too close," she reassured, "they won't come in unless I tell them to."

Sword woman got the double message and turned back again to the trees. Grey hair looked at Marion consideringly and then reached out her hand. "My name's Carol," she said as Marion took it _firm enough, confident in herself._ Carol turned and pointed out each, "That's Maggie, Beth and that is Michonne."

Marion reached out to clasp Maggie's hand, quirking slightly at the strength of the grip _a capable lass this one_, waved at Beth as she turned with a smile and then turned but thought against offering a hand to Michonne, settling for a nod instead – it was slowly and very suspiciously returned and Marion's eyes lit up with laughter _ballbuster_. There was a rustle and a tall, lanky brunette stepped out of a tent, looking up with wide doe like eyes before taking the baby from Beth with a tired smile and flicking her long wavy hair out of the way to examine the contents of the bag. "That's Lori," added Carol.

Marion stiffened slightly, _Carol – Lori – motorbike._ Maggie, Beth and Michonne were alien names _but what were the chances. _"Oh shit," she whispered and Carol's brows drew in slightly even as a smile started to spread across Marion's face. "This might sound like a crazy question..." she started.

Things happened suddenly then. Behind her she heard Dog bark just as she caught sight of a tall, slightly grizzled man stepping out of the trees on the other side of the road, followed closely by a shorter and younger asian man and a black man built somewhat like a tree trunk.

Then there was a primal scream, one of hatred and anger and she whirled. "Merle!" she screamed. "NO!"

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle watched her start to talk to the women. They'd reacted quickly enough; the one on guard had seen Marion first and send out a low whistle and in unison the other three women had reacted, the honey blond with the baby pushed behind the others who had stiffened defensively. They hadn't pulled out their weapons though (well except for the black woman who was coming in with a _fuckin' _sword), which Merle took as a good sign, but he didn't lower his rifle, keeping it up against his shoulder and the scope close to his eye. He was not going to let Marion get caught out like he had been – not that it had been her fault. It had been his, acting like some dumb wannabe, letting the uniforms and artillery over-ride his sense of offness as he'd spoken to the men, the way that they had looked at him.

Dog growled and he put his stump down to him. He'd never been happier to see the mutt than that night as he'd slipped through the camp with his knife tucked into the coat. It had been enough to get him out of there; the soldiers who had seen him escaping were left to be the next on the menu – if they were eaten quick enough. He'd been careful to kill them without hitting the brain. "It'll be alright Dog – she's got it."

He watched Marion lower the bag and the sword, noting that she left the sword within easy reach of her hand _that's my girl_ he thought in satisfaction. He watched her lift her shirt and do a pirouette, studiously avoiding looking to where she knew he was perched and he smirked _woman was getting better at that._ The upside down sheaf had caused him considerable issues – while she had helped a little with the design, being in the centre of her back pretty much precluded her from getting it settled into place. The majority of the exercise had been spent with her with no shirt on – which had created its own distractions.

A movement to the side caught his attention and he lifted the rifle to point to the side of the pond – a blond woman was coming quickly around the pond, a silver gun held professionally in her hands. Behind her he could see a young boy in an oversize hat and an old man following at a slower pace, the man struggling on crutches while carrying a set of fishing roads and a shotgun, the boy also with a handgun. He frowned – there was something...

Dog growled and he turned the rifle back to Marion, but didn't see anything that would worry Dog. _She was getting somewhere_ he realised as she shook the old lady's hand, then reached over to take the other woman's hand. He saw a movement to the back of the group and moved the rifle to where the honey blond was handing the baby over to a tall brunette stepping out of the tent.

Merle frowned and like a marble through a jar of honey things started to connect. The blond, the brunette _fuck _even the grey haired woman. They all looked different, more worn, thinner, stronger – but he _knew _them.

Dog growled and Merle turned this time, watching as – not more than 15 yards from him – _Officer Fuckin' Friendly_ stepped out of the trees, still in the midst of saying something to _the chink_ who was at his shoulder followed almost immediately by _the nigga. _

"_All I am anymore is a man looking for his wife and son – anyone who gets in the way of that is going to lose."_

He was moving before he had time to take in the bark that Dog gave, the somewhat startled expression on the sherriff's face as he beheld Marion standing there, or even the fourth figure that all but ghosted out of the trees, shabby and unkempt as he had ever been. The sound that came from his throat was pure rage – built of horror, of pain, of the hatred that had sustained him for so long. The rifle dropped unheeded to the ground within three steps, his hand bringing out the handgun – he wanted to be up close and personal with this one.

The men reacted like a well oiled machine, levelling guns at him.

"No!" yelled a voice at them and _Daryl _stepped in front of the sheriff, almost shouldering him out of the way, holding the crossbow up against his shoulders, pointing the bolt straight at Merle's head.

"Git outta me way Darylena," snarled Merle, slowing his pace.

"Stand down Merle," said his brother, his mouth squished against the edge of the bow, in a voice that Merle had never heard his brother use to him _grew a pair had he?_

Merle stopped less than a yard away from the bolt. "Ya ain't got tha balls ta use t'at baby brother," mocked Merle, glaring into his own private eye mirror, the ice blue orbs crinkled in that narrowed eyes glare right back at him. He took a step forward and Daryl's shoulders lifted.

There was a sudden movement to their side and Daryl took a step sideways, half swinging the bow towards the new threat that came barrelling towards them. Merle saw his chance and lifted the gun – there was a solid thwack as something solid impacted against his wrist, the sharp stab of pain almost dislodging the gun from his grasp and he staggered under the force of the blow.

He straightened to find a set of fiery brown eyes glaring up at him, the rest of the figures fading into the background.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing Merle?" demanded Marion.

"T'at's tha fuckin' prick who 'andcuffed me ta tha pipe – forced me to cut off me own 'and," he shouted.

"Bullshit," she snorted, right up in his personal space _standing on her tiptoes_ offered his ever helpful inner voice. "No-one forces Merle Dixon to do a bloody thing except Merle Dixon. And," she added with a savage highlight. "Unless I have entirely misunderstood your description of him, that's your _brother_ that you're pointing your gun at. Your _brother_ – you know, the one that we have been chasing all over this fucking god forsaken country."

Merle growled and stepped to the side – he was going to put a bullet in Officer Friendly's brain – then he'd talk. The crossbow lifted again.

Marion stepped in front of him and he stopped. Behind her Daryl's brow rose.

Merle stepped again and she moved again – once more he stopped. Daryl's other brow rose. "Git outta me way woman!" snarled Merle in frustration.

"No," she snapped back at him with icy derision. "You want to do this – you go through me."

He glared down at her. Her chin lifted. "FUCK!" he screamed and threw the gun at the nearest tree, whirling and stomping off into the trees.

Marion took in a shuddering breath, her entire body trembling. She watched his back disappear and looked down at Dog, his tail wagging uncertainly. She flicked her chin and Dog yipped, darting after Merle. Marion took another deep breath and turned – meeting a trio of astonished eyes, one set the most vibrant shade of blue that she had ever seen. She turned slightly, looking the younger Dixon up and down, meeting those familiar – and yet so different – eyes with deliberate precision. "Put that away would you mate, before you hurt someone."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) Think "The Road"

(2) As said by Stephen Baldwin in The Usual Suspects – anyone remember him in The Young Riders?

OK – so the whole "we're going to skip winter" thing that TWD writers did really stuffed up my original idea of timing – I have tried to adjust. But don't do the maths too hard on the pregnancy – I _think _I'm good but ... I have deliberated, but have eventually decided to ignore the deaths in episode 4.

I am not going to put too much detail in describing what the characters look like – you know who I'm talking about and despite the temptation I'm going to stay out of their heads. What you will see, and hear, are the impressions that M&M pick up.

I am going to try to southernise Daryl where I failed so abysmally with Merle, who I decided long ago would just have to put up with the mistakes I had made. I have had expert advice but I am trying to implement it all on my own, so be understanding!


	68. Chapter 68

Chapter 68

"What the hell was that?" breathed the asian man. "Daryl – was that... was that your _brother_?"

There was a sound of a slap on the back, then another slightly chastising voice. "_Later_ man – come on."

Marion ignored the exchange and the two of them walking away, with a few backward glances, keeping her eyes on the blue eyes fixed above the crossbow. It didn't lower.

"You got _this_?" hissed a voice – her peripheral vision telling her it was from _Officer Friendly_.

"Mm-hmm" said the hunter harshly, his eyes never leaving her, his finger on the trigger. The sheriff moved away, leaving the two of them looking at each other.

"You're kidding me aren't you?" she demanded. There was no response and she snorted, starting to turn.

"Ah-ah," he snapped, moving to intercept her.

"Oh for fuck's sake," she sighed and stilled. She turned her head, seeing the sheriff in discussion with Carol, Michonne and a blond woman who she hadn't noticed before. There was some gesturing towards the bag that was being emptied on the ground at the moment. The sheriff turned around and looked at her then back to the others, although she noticed Carol stared in their direction for another few moments.

"Yer bleedin'" he said in a much lower voice than she expected, but quiet like she knew it would be.

"What?" she blinked and looked down at the slice in her hand. _Should have thrown the other end at the twit_ she thought involuntarily. "Bugger," she hissed and put her other hand to her pockets as she wondered what she had that she could use to staunch the flow. A red rag came into her vision and she blinked, taking in the chewed fingers that were extending it to her. She took the rag, his hand went straight back to the trigger, and wrapped it around her hand, glancing up. "Ta."

Daryl gave her an almost imperceptible nod as the sheriff walked back to them. She looked at him curiously, noting how his eyes looked at her once and then straight at Daryl, a slight crinkling around them. He nodded once and the bow was lowered, she looked at Daryl – she could see the tension oozing out of him.

"You don't have to do it alone" said Officer Friendly. "T or Glen," his voice tailed off at a look from Daryl. "Well then Herschel..."

"Ah got it," returned Daryl levelly.

Officer Friendly looked at him, Marion couldn't see what for – the man had the best poker face that she had ever seen, but then she looked at his eyes. She saw the longing in them and wasn't surprised when the sheriff nodded. The hunter, for there was no doubt that that was what he was, turned on his heel immediately. He paused a few steps in and bent over – he gave a short whistle and then lobbed her knife into the air towards the sheriff. She thought for a moment about trying to snatch it out of the air as she watched it in flight, but decided against it and let it land in the sheriff's hand without interference. She turned back to the trees _And like that ... he's gone_ (1) she blinked as she saw only trees.

"So you're with Merle Dixon?" asked the sheriff. Marion nodded. "Voluntarily?" he asked.

Marion stilled, forcing her teeth together. She took a breath, "I'll give you that one Sherriff," she said levelly and his eyes flickered a bit at her tone. "But you need to know that he's not like that anymore."

The sheriff tipped his head, one hand coming up to his hip, the other still loosely holding his handgun. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to disagree with you based on what I just saw," he said matter of factly.

Marion's eyes narrowed. "Are we going to have a problem here officer?"

"Are we?" he retorted quickly.

"If you're going to be an arsehole then, yes I daresay we are," she said frankly.

"That," he pointed in the direction of the trees with the hand holding the gun, "is the problem. I will not let Merle Dixon," he said the name savagely, "come in here and disrupt this group. We've lost too much already."

"If you want to talk about _loss_," she hissed, leaning forward, "how about having to cut off you own hand and being separated from your only family in the world."

His face stayed stony, but something in those blue eyes recoiled slightly and she saw the guilt, the horror that he had carried with him since that day. Marion softened slightly. "Look," she said evenly. "If you don't want us here, that's fine by me. But if Daryl is your friend..."

"Daryl is my brother," interrupted the sheriff, almost hissing at her.

"Then perhaps you should be asking him what he wants to do," she finished with barely a pause.

_That set him back on his heels _she observed with some satisfaction. She met his eyes _crikey but what a blue_ steadily. He nodded and extended her blade out to her; she took it and flipped it, putting it up into the holster – which made his brows rise. She heard a hiss and turned slightly to look at Michonne, smiling with a slight hint of triumph – the blade had stopped the swing of the sword and she knew the woman was pissed at being deceived.

"I'll go get the car," she said.

"Glen," called out the sheriff and the asian man gave a quick kiss to Maggie and jogged over.

"I don't need an escort," said Marion.

"I insist," replied the sheriff.

"Whatever," she snorted, walking away, deliberately close to Michonne who glared at her all the way as she picked her sword out of the ground.

Glen jogged after her, but she ignored him – frowning as she stepped into the trees, scanning the ground. He shifted his weight next to her, opening his mouth only to close it without saying anything. "Hah!" she exclaimed and reached down, picking up the bow from where Merle had abandoned it and brushing the leaves off it.

Glen's eyes were wide as he looked at her. "You can _use _that?" he breathed.

Marion turned to him as she slung it over her shoulder. "Nope," she said casually. "But it looks cool doesn't it?"

For almost ten seconds she held his shocked gaze – then she giggled. Immediately Glen's face cleared, relaxing into what appeared to be more like his natural expression and he laughed.

"I'm Glen," he said, reaching out his hand.

"Marion," she nodded, taking his hand and wincing slightly as her cut was compressed. She looked into the trees. "Come on – the car's this way."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle punched the tree for a third time, feeling the skin break on the rough bark. Dog's whine turned into a yip and Merle heaved a sigh; Dog jumped up and nuzzled for a pat. Merle placed his hand on Dog's head, lowering his head and knocking it once or twice against the tree, looking at the lump already forming on his hand where the pair of dragons had hit him. His rage – the red haze had dissipated and he was left with the hollowness of his first meeting with his brother – a gun and crossbow raised. _Fuckin' stupid redneck _he berated himself. A vision of furious brown eyes flashed up in front of him. _Fuck but she was going to be pissed with him_.

Dog growled and he whirled, his hand slipping the knife out of the sheath in one movement and tossing it into his fingertips ready to throw.

Daryl leaned against the trunk of the tree, the crossbow held nonchalantly in one hand, the other pushing his thumb against his teeth. Merle watched the narrowed eyes looking him up and down, knowing that they were taking in the muscle tone; the healthy colouring to the skin; the absence of tremors; the keenness in the blue eyes that looked back at him – and that there would be a little hope. "Tha world must've fuckin' ended," he drawled slightly. "Never thought ah'd see tha day that Merle Dixon got his ass whooped by a bitch."

"Ah shuddup," Merle said without any heat, even as his hand throbbed. "It's not'in' more t'an ya 'ad ev'ry ot'er day."

Those lips tipped up in an acknowledging smirk around the thumb that his teeth were still worrying at. Merle looked up and down the figure in front of him, feeling something inside him connect back together. "So wha'?" he smirked. "Ya don't see ya brot'er for months and ya ain't even got a hug for ol' Merle?"

The teeth paused and the hand dropped down from his mouth, for a moment Merle met his brother's eyes. Then he stepped forward and Daryl pushed off from the tree with a grin and Merle enclosed him, pulling him close.

Dog's tail thump thumped.

"Fuck son – ya been doin' tha roids or wha'?" Merle demanded roughly, pulling away after several moments, gritting his teeth.

There was a suspicious glimmer to Daryl's eyes as he looked back to Merle's face. Their physiques were different, Merle built on solid lines and Daryl a rangier version – but they stood at exactly the same height and their eyes were level. Merle met those blue eyes and was slightly startled to see some steel in them. "Take more 'n tha end o tha world to git me on 'em," he said with a slight curl of his lip. There was a slight pause. "Wha' 'bout you?"

"Clean man," Merle nodded. "Ain't touched 'em for four months." He saw the glimmer of hope this time, then watched it extinguished by the memory of broken promises.

"Wha' tha 'ell happened to ya man?" breathed Daryl after only a slight pause. "We came back fer ya – Rick, T, Glen n' me – we was there tha next day!" His tone carried a hint of the betrayal that he'd felt.

"I was 'andcuffed to a fuckin' pipe," protested Merle harshly. "T'ere was geeks lined up ta git ta me."

"So ya cut off yer hand?" snapped Daryl, his eyes flitting down to the stump. "Did ya really think ah wouldn't come fer ya?"

_Yes – yes I did, I thought you'd be glad to be shot of me._ Merle swallowed, not meeting his brother's eyes, "I was using bad brother – I wasn't t'inkin' properly."

"Blood is blood Merle – kin is kin," Daryl leaned in and Merle lifted his eyes to him. They stood mere inches apart. "Ya're mah _brother_ – we been through shit that not many can understand – even if you are a prick."

Merle snorted, smirking and seeing his brother's lips turn up as well. His face sobered. "I saw tha camp – who'd ya lose?" Daryl blinked and Merle shrugged. "It took me a couple days – but I got back t'ere. I read tha tracks – saw tha graves."

Merle listened as his brother slowly recounted that night, the trip to the CDC, the pile up, losing Sophia, the farm, losing Sophia, the herd, the wasteland of winter, the prison, the Governor. His voice stayed as a monologue, only ever now and again cracking with a hint of emotion. They moved to a log during the recount and Merle sat quietly, his hand buried in Dog's coat and trying to read his brother's expression. The afternoon was well advanced when Daryl's voice came to a halt, husky from more talking than Merle reckoned he'd done in all the preceding years.

"Fuckin' 'ell brother," Merle breathed at the end of it, looking over at his brother. _And he thought Robby was a prick_.

"Wha' 'bout you?" Daryl prompted after a few moments' silence.

Merle told him about Robby – about when he'd been picked up, about what the camp was, how he had busted clear, Babylon, travelling through the countryside, the helicopter, staying in Sylacauga, their journey to here. His voice grew uncertain as he described meeting Marion, downplaying the love he had for the woman. He didn't mention their 'marriage' or _that_ night when she had been bitten.

Daryl snorted at the end of the story; Merle knew that he was reflecting something along the lines about the devil's own luck. "And tha toilet brush?" Daryl asked and Dog growled lightly at the disparagement in the tone. Daryl glared back at him.

"Leave me Dog alone," Merle smirked slightly with the rebuke and put his hand on Dog's head. "'e may only be pint sized, but 'e's a chupacabra inside."

Daryl snorted at the jibe and stood, grimacing slightly. "Come on – it's getting on dark, we should git back."

There was a definite and noticeable tensing of the group when the two Dixon brothers stepped out of the trees, especially when it was noticed that Merle had reclaimed his gun and wore it prominently in his belt. Merle noticed Officer Friendly_ no Rick Grimes _look over to his brother, his eyes narrowed and saw the almost imperceptible nod that was given back to him. Merle's teeth gritted _ya his bitch now Darylena_ but he swallowed the words and looked around.

"Where's Marion," he demanded suddenly, coming to a dead halt as he realised he couldn't see the truck. His stomach dropped _she wouldn't..._.

Daryl stopped and looked back at him with a slight expression of surprise and Rick's hand slipped towards his gun.

"She went to get the car," Andrea replied after a short silence where everyone looked at each other.

"When?" he snapped, his eyes running over her form once _damn but she was a good looking woman._

Andrea shrugged. "Just after you left."

"And ya let 'er go alone?" snarled Merle, focusing on the tall sheriff. _She could be anywhere _he thought, knowing that she wouldn't be able to find her way back through the trees to the car without either Dog or himself to guide her.

"Glen went with her," replied Rick in that calm voice which irritated Merle but it was the actual words that made him snort _the errand boy? What good was he?_ There was a slight suggestion of uncertainty though as Rick looked at Daryl. "It was a while ago."

Daryl nodded, unslinging the bow from his shoulders and walking towards the trees where he'd seen Merle barrelling from.

Dog yipped and Daryl stopped, turning to look at the Dog as he realised that his brother was no longer behind him and seeing the slight wag of the tail as the animal looked down the road. Merle was also facing down the road and the group turned to watch as the truck rounded the corner and drove steadily until it was next to the other vehicles.

"Where you been?" called out T-Dog as Glen came out of the passenger seat with a grin.

"It took us a while to catch Penny," replied the younger man with an element of delight.

Merle ignored the resulting conversation and laughter as Glen explained who and what Penny was and then grabbed her cage out of the tray to show her off. He walked towards the driver's door, meeting Marion's laughing face as she exited the car.

_I fucked up – I'm sorry. _"Ya got lost didn't ya?" his voice said instead, the worry of the last minute giving an edge to his voice that wasn't strictly necessary.

The contrast between the afternoon with Glen and the tone in Merle's voice stripped Marion's smile from her face. "No," she lied blatantly, crossing her arms in a futile attempt to cover the scratches on her arms, her face becoming a stony mask.

"Oh we got lost," explained Glen happily at some volume in the background.

Marion ground her teeth – Glen was a lovely boy but he had a terrible sense of timing. "I figured it out," she bit out tensely as Merle's smirk turned triumphant. They had in fact stumbled on the creek; she had been so relieved to see the water, knowing that she only had to follow the water to find the pool that she had been about to wash their clothes in when they had heard the noises, it had been only been a short walk then to where the car had been parked. There hadn't been much to pack back into the truck but Penny had been adamant that she was going to use her full allocation of daylight hours to scratch around and without Dog to assist and with Glen's strange presence the hen had eluded them for quite a time.

Dog yipped and jumped up at Marion. "Crikey Dog," she said in exasperation as one of his claws connected too strongly on her leg. "I haven't been gone that long."

_Fuck – she must be pissed if she's having a go at Dog_ thought Merle and decided to give her some space. He turned away from her and reached into the tray, removing the tarps and ropes that they still used to sleep under. The first few weeks had been a bit of a struggle with the cold, but that just meant that she was happy having him pressed up against her so he had been more than happy with arrangement. As the winter had receded and spring had arrived though it had become warmer, the number of blankets had decreased and most of the nights now even they ended up with them kicked off, his warmth enough to keep her comfortable.

Marion glared at his back in disbelief as he walked away. _That was it?_ she thought. _He blows a gasket – almost starts a bloodbath and ... nothing?_ "Fuck," she swore under her breath and slammed the door. Dog whined but she ignored him and turned to the tray to look for some of the fruit and vegetables that they had managed to find on a farm the week before. It wouldn't make much of a meal for, she did a quick headcount, fourteen people but if they were staying – and it appeared that they were – then she would share what they had.

"Carol," said an almost exasperated drawl and Marion turned despite herself, seeing Daryl standing alone with slightly slumped shoulders and an unreadable expression on his face. She looked once at Carol's set face as the woman walked away and then turned back to the tray, feeling like she was intruding.

"Need a hand?" Carol's voice asked.

Marion offered her a smile and pointed out the vegetables that she was planning to use for the night. The two women heaved at the plastic container and carefully walked it closer to the fire, where the group's supplies were. Marion looked up at the other woman, seeing the set face so carefully hiding any emotion. "You ok?"

Carol glanced up and waved her hand. "I'll be fine." Marion's eyes stayed steady and Carol sighed. "It's just... "

"Emotional retardation and an innate ability to exasperate runs in the family huh?" quirked Marion as Carol gave up the struggle to express herself properly.

Carol looked at her sharply and slowly a smile formed as she realised that Marion probably knew exactly how she felt. "He's sleeping out tonight, he tells me," she explained. "We've been sleeping toge... next to each other for months now and tonight he tells me he's moving out. Just like that."

Marion stiffened and she looked over to where Merle was working on _their_ shelter. Daryl was already there, reefing up the ropes with more than a hint of savageness, a roll of bedding sitting on the ground behind him. Her stomach dropped _Arsehole!_ her inner voice screeched. _It's his brother – of course he wants him close_ said a more reasonable voice. _So what? I'm nothing? _demanded the other voice angrily. She realised that Carol was still talking to her and blinked away the sudden burst of moisture. "Pardon?" she said apologetically.

"Herschel said it's going to rain tonight," Carol repeated and offered a twisted smile as Marion frowned in puzzlement, glancing up at the clear sky. "Oh he'll be right – his missing foot is apparently the world's best barometer now." Marion grinned, looking over to where the grey haired man was balanced on one crutch. "I thought perhaps you'd like to share my tent?"

Marion blinked again, feeling a sudden empathy with this total stranger. "Thanks Carol – I'd appreciate that." She paused and then had a thought. "We do come as a matched set though."

For a moment the woman was thrown, then her eyes dipped to where Dog sat, a warm smile lighting up her face when his tail thump thumped and she reached down to give him a pat.

Merle grunted as he finally managed to attach the overhead tarp securely. They had dispensed with the need for most of the knots, using a couple of D clips and what Marion called ockie straps to tie the tarp, but one of them had broken the night before last and he had had to tie a knot. Pride had dictated that he not ask for help though, although Daryl had just started helping on the other end and it had felt so natural that he hadn't said anything. It was only when he finished that he looked around and noticed a bedroll.

"Wha' ya doin'?" he asked as Daryl picked it up, unstrapped it and threw it out onto the ground tarp.

"What's it look like?" snorted Daryl. "Ah'm gettin' mah gear ready. Ah got tha graveyard watch, want ta git a bit o' sleep."

Merle's mouth opened _but Marion is sleeping there_ when he turned. He saw Carol leading Marion towards a tent, both laden with bedding, Dog bouncing at her heels. _Fuck_ and his mouth closed. He stomped around finishing off the task of setting up, ignoring the looks that he got from Rick. That was until the man walked up to them, a folded map in his left hand, his right hovering almost but not quite casually next to the gun on his hip.

"Merle," he said precisely, waiting until Merle looked up at him. "I need you to show me where you've been, what you've seen."

"Ya do, do ya?" snarled Merle contrarily.

"Merle," Daryl said warningly and Merle saw Rick flash him a glance. _Worried about your bitch's loyalty? _wondered Merle malevolently, but then saw their eyes meet _no_. There was no uncertainty there, only an understanding – trust. Daryl turned his eyes back to Merle, asking without saying anything and Merle suddenly saw the conflict his brother was suffering. Clear headed as he was, as he had been for a while, he understood – his brother had _apparently_ found acceptance in this group. He was _someone_ here. And he thought Merle was going to _fuck it up_ and didn't know what he would do when it happened. Merle swallowed his anger.

"Ya don't want ta go where we bin," he said gruffly.

"Walkers?" Rick almost snapped the question out, intent in his face and voice.

"Some," nodded Merle. "T'ey're t'ick in places. It's tha livin' t'at's tha real problem t'ough."

Again he saw the look between Rick and Daryl and knew that they were thinking of the Governor and his Woodbury.

"What about the farm where all that food came from?" persisted Rick. "Could we go there? Could we make something of it?"

In his question Merle heard the desperation of a man trying to find some way to keep his family safe. _Fair enough_ he thought – he had a woman, who looked close to useless in a fight, a young boy and a baby who looked only a couple of months old. There was genuine regret in Merle's voice as he shook his head. "Not t'ere, no." He paused. "T'ere ain't nowhere safe – not really, not for a group your size."

"But for smaller groups?" Rick's eyes narrowed; again he glanced quickly at Daryl.

Merle shrugged. "We found sanctuary a couple o' times," he acknowledged, ignoring the slightly narrowed look his brother gave him. "Never seemed ta last t'ough. We was 'eaded to Seward."

"The National Guard," prompted Rick and Merle cast a glance to his brother. _Obviously they'd been talking._

Merle nodded. "Marion'll 'ave tha leaflet somewhere – ya didn't git one?" Rick shook his head. "Looked real enough – not tha' we seen tha chopper again. We was 'eaded up north west – but tha glitches turned us 'round tha' many times we got dizzy. Tried a diff'rent tack and ended up 'ere. T'ere's a road 'bout twenty miles up we was goin' ta take – on tha map it looks big enough but not too big t'at ev'ryone would 'ave bin on it."

"Show me?" this time it was a request and Merle nodded. They moved to the bonnet of a car, spreading the map out and pouring over it for a while. Andrea and Michonne wandered over and listened as Merle explained where they'd been, what and who they had seen and the routes they had rejected based on their information. He ignored the part of himself that wanted to turn and call out for Marion to come and help, trying to stop the impulse that made him look up everytime he heard her laugh. Rick then sketched out the areas that they had seen and where to avoid. Night put an end to the discussion and a call from Carol to say that dinner was ready.

Merle took his time packing up the maps that he'd dragged from their car, letting the group find their spots. _He didn't fit in_ he knew. The ones that had known him before – they didn't trust him. The others – well they obviously saw how the others looked at him: maybe they'd been told what he was like – his entrance this afternoon certainly gave no room for thinking he was any different. But Daryl was here, and Marion obviously did fit it – he wasn't going to fuck it up for them. He heard a quiet step behind him and turned, looking at his brother in the deepening darkness.

"Come on – ain't got all night."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) More Usual Suspects. I LOVE that movie.


	69. Chapter 69

Chapter 69

Marion threw the vegetable scraps to Penny, despite Dog's eager presence at her feet and the hen clucked contently as she investigated a few of the juicer bits half heartedly – she was obviously full of whatever she had been chasing in the leaf litter and ready for sleep. Marion chuckled lightly and pulled the tarp over the hen, leaving enough of a gap at the bottom so that there was some airflow. In the winter the tarp had been required to keep the hen from freezing, the current temperatures didn't really require it but with Carol's warning of rain in her head Marion had decided to cover the cage.

She turned and paused, looking at the scene in front of her. Dinner was a communal affair for the group – all congregated around the fire, talking and laughing, except for Andrea and Maggie who were on watch. Marion reflected on telling them that Dog would keep watch but decided that the first night was too early for them to trust something like that. Her eyes moved to where Merle was following his brother towards the light – she had been pleased to see that Merle had been involved with the group's discussion and had deliberately refrained from joining them to allow him to assert himself productively. She had enjoyed the monotony of what she would have previously considered a chore of peeling the vegetables – the task of preparing meals for fourteen people was too big for one person, but everyone had seemed to be happy enough to leave Carol to do it. Lori had been trying to help, but little Judith had not been happy with that arrangement, even with a new pacifier in her mouth and Carol had eventually just shooed her away. Carl had been willing, for about as long as a 13year old boy's attention span could be, but he had then been distracted by Dog who had been cautiously optimistic about the young boy and the two had settled down first for a calm and gentle pat followed by a somewhat more vigorous game of fetch. Carol was happy enough to sit in silence but when the two of them started talking about what the quality of the vegetables they had moved quite easily into general conversation.

Merle watched her come back from the car and cursed silently as she was intercepted by Beth, who had been apparently sampling the ipod and wanted Marion to listen to something. He watched as her face lit up with laughter and she disclaimed all responsibility for the music that was blaring from the device.

"Here," said a slightly terse voice and he turned, watching as Daryl took the plate of food being offered to him by the little mouse..._ Carol_ Merle remembered, also remembering the woman's husband and how he'd had the sort of look which had set Merle's teeth on edge and in search of escape. She'd changed since the last time he'd seen her – the physical changes were obvious; her hair had grown so that she looked younger, less dour; her slimness had a tightness that implied strength rather than fragility. There was something with how she carried herself too – she looked stronger from the inside. Her blue eyes had trapped Daryl's, but for a moment only – Daryl's eyes dived for the floor and he almost shuffled on the spot.

"What 'bout Merle?" he muttered.

Carol's chin lifted and she turned – taking the three paces back to where Lori was serving out the food and bringing a plate back to Merle. "I could cut it up for you..." she started slightly uncertainly as she offered him a plate with a knife and fork.

"I got it," said Merle slightly harshly and then winced as she flinched – although she didn't take a backward step. "T'anks anyway," he added and her face softened. She nodded once to him and, with only a quick glance at Daryl, turned back to the group. He looked at the plate even as Daryl started shovelling food into his mouth while he leant against a tree, and then looked for somewhere else to sit.

Marion smiled at Beth, bouncing the baby gently while Lori tried to eat her dinner as quickly as she could, and made her way to the table with the food. She picked up one plate and started to pile it up with meat, concentrating on finding the smaller pieces, and then adding vegetables, which were already in smallish pieces because she had been in charge of cutting them up. She filled it and looked up to find Merle, pulling a face to herself as she saw he already had a plate and wondering whether the others would just think she was a glutton. She moved towards one of the logs that had been pulled around for the group to sit on, noting with amusement the attentiveness that she was suddenly been given by Dog; who could obviously do a volume assessment from his position on the ground. He sat down expectantly in front of her and Marion's grin widened as she heard the footsteps approaching, opening her mouth to make a comment to Merle.

"You had him long?" asked a rounded voice and her mouth closed abruptly as she took in the old man of the group – Herschel she remembered with a little effort. Her eyes flicked behind him and hardened as she saw Merle moving away, his plate in his hand.

"Dog?" she raised her brows, focusing with some effort on the kind face in front of her. "Only since this thing started," she replied. "I sort of inherited him."

"He's a good looking animal," offered Herschel and Dog pricked up his ears. The man extended his hand and Marion's face lifted as she watched Dog carefully extend his nose and then wag his tail as he recognised a kindred spirit.

"He likes you," said Marion, then glanced at Herschel as she realised quite how superfluous that comment was. He was smiling absently. "You used to have dogs?"

"Not for a while," admitted the man, now stroking Dog to the animal's ecstasy. "I used to be a vet though," he explained.

"So what exactly is he?" asked Marion curiously, chewing on a piece of potato. Her eyes widened slightly as she watched Herschel pick Dog up and examine his face and bone structure.

"Pomeranian – a good example of one too," replied Herschel. "Did he by any chance have Teacup in his name?" Marion's brows rose and she nodded. "That particular kennel is a well known Chihuahua line – but they had recently started out with Pomeranians." The vet sat Dog down on his feet again, offering him another pat. "He would have been shown when he was old enough."

"How old is he?" asked Marion, smiling up at Beth as she handed her father the still awake baby.

"About two years old," replied Herschel, settling the bundle in his arms and speaking as if to her. "He's been easy to train?"

A memory of throwing Dog out the door to bait the geeks crossed her mind and she grimaced slightly. "Pretty quick on the uptake," she nodded and offered Dog a piece of meat as an apology. "Did you specialise in small animals or large? I heard you were a farmer?"

Merle glared at the _fucking happy family_ from his position at the cars, leaning on his elbows as he scooped the food into his mouth. The isolation was probably a good thing – the pieces of meat were too large and he was having to tear the pieces off his fork or knife rather than being able to eat like a civilised person. _Sneaky woman _he thought – this meal making it obvious that, somehow without him seeing it, Marion had always made sure to cut his food up small enough to eat properly. _He missed her_ he realised suddenly and swore inwardly _fucking one afternoon and he was pining for his woman like a lovestruck pussy_. He heard a slight shuffle of feet and glanced over the bonnet to where Daryl rested, who had wordlessly followed him to the car. A habit of a lifetime had made him sense Merle's inner disquiet and so he didn't say a word – but offered his company only.

"It's good," offered Merle gruffly, noting that Daryl was pretty much licking the gravy and mint sauce off the plate.

"Carol knows how ta cook," nodded Daryl quietly, his eyes flicking to where the slender woman was laughing with the group. "She can even make tree-rat taste alright."

Merle grunted. "She ain't learnt t'at from ya t'en."

Daryl's lips tipped up in a ghost of a real smile. "Fuck it is ah might not have seconds - ya want more?"

"Na," Merle shook his head, his plate still half full. He watched his brother move quietly away, skirting around the edge of the group. Two figures extracted themselves from the group and made their way to him – his eyes narrowed _the chink and nigga_.

"Merle," nodded Glen, shuffling slightly awkwardly.

"Yeah?" replied Merle, not in the mood to help either one of them. Officer Friendly was the one who locked him to the pipe, but these two had been there – _the nigga_ had been the one to throw the key down the drain.

Glen glanced once at T-Dog, but the latter was looking straight at Merle, steadily. "About what happened in Atlanta..." started Glen.

"Ya mean me gettin' locked up as geek bait," demanded Merle harshly. "Ya mean me 'avin' ta cut off me own 'and? Ya mean when ya t'rew tha key down tha drain," the volume of his voice was increasing slightly, catching Daryl's and Dog's attention.

"I _dropped_ the key," inserted T-Dog, taking one step forward. "I was coming back to unlock you – despite you trying to kill me earlier – and I _dropped_ they key." He locked eyes with Merle. "I'm not proud of what happened – but I came back, _we_ came back for you. You were gone and then, well, things happened and quite frankly you weren't a priority. You're still not – so don't fuck with my family, I won't lose any sleep over you this time."

Merle's eyes narrowed as the black man stared at him, resolute without a trace of fear. It was what had annoyed him to start with, the damn sense of entitlement that the _nigga_ had, thinking he was above his position in life.

T-Dog nodded once, his point made. He turned and walked away, leaving Glen standing there slightly aghast. The younger man swallowed and turned back to Merle, seemingly worried that there was about to be an explosion. "Ah...," he swallowed. "I'm glad to see that you're alive – for Daryl's sake," he said nervously. His expression hardened somewhat and Merle blinked with surprise, the man had changed since he had last seen him. "Don't fuck up this chance Merle – please?" He walked away without waiting for an answer, perhaps not expecting one.

Merle boiled _the idea that a chink and a nigga would tell him what to do _was his first thought, closely and somewhat contrarily followed by _what the hell sort of monster do they think I am_. There was a derisive snort in his head _Ya reckon they are that far wrong?_ and he had to concede the point. A while ago he would have gone out of his way to fuck with the group, stirred them up just for the fun of it, confident enough in his own abilities to extract himself and his brother from any resulting mess. He had changed though, he was clean – he wouldn't do that.

"Hey Glen," Merle was distracted by the low voice. "Leave mah brother ta me – ok?" There was no threat in the voice, a little warning only, direction not menace.

"No problems," shrugged Glen easily, looking over his shoulder at Merle. "He's all yours."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Later than night Marion stared at the top of the tent, watching and listening to the impact of the raindrops on the canvas and Carol's even breath, although she suspected that the other woman wasn't asleep either. The food at dinner had been lovely, the tender and moist lamb had almost melted in her mouth; the vegetables and sauces had been greeted with cheers from all except Carl and Daryl. Rick had thanked both her and Merle with deliberate politeness for their contribution to the meal and Marion had seen a slight thawing in his attitude to her although he and the rest of the group obviously held Merle in suspicion. Merle didn't do anything to alleviate that concern; he hadn't spoken to her at all during the meal and had isolated himself with Daryl at the cars. She had tensed when Dog had propped up, trying to maintain a light conversation with Herschel and Beth even while readying herself to intervene – but Daryl had moved off before she had seen the need to and then Glen and T-Dog had returned to the group no worse for wear.

Glen, whose 'glass half full' nature could only be suppressed for so long, was encouraged to start an open conversation with her and the night passed comfortably. Occasionally she would feel someone looking at her, but she resisted turning, keeping her back stiff. Except for once when she did turn – and found Daryl regarding her as she imagined he would a cut snake, wondering when she was going to strike, watching her very carefully with a narrowed gaze. She stared back at him directly and after a moment his gaze dropped back to the ground – her eyes flickered over Merle who wasn't looking at her. She wondered what he had told his brother about her.

She had helped with the dishes and the scraps, although to Dog's disappointment there wasn't many of those, trying to not listen as Lori whispered reassurance to Carol about Daryl pulling away from the group by taking herself out to the truck and checking on Penny. She had then walked back into the trees, having been given the rough layout of 'little girls' and 'little boys' rooms that was necessary in a group of this size that _didn't _sleep all together – her mouth was stretching in amusement at the memory of the other group when she had almost bumped in a wide chest.

Her knife had been out of her hip sheath in a flash, but a large paw had caught her before she could do anything. "Shit Merle," she had hissed as she had yanked her wrist out of his hand. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"Ya shouldn't be out 'ere alone," he had chastised. "Wha' f I'd been a geek?"

"Then Dog would have mentioned it," she snapped, glancing pointedly at the dog currently propped up on his back legs to get a head scrub from Merle's stump. "And they're nosier than you anyway," she said grumpily.

Marion looked up at him, trying to figure out how angry he still was. She wanted to know what was going on – whether he could handle staying with these people for the sake of his brother or whether he wanted to go, maybe try and convince Daryl to come with her – although she suspected that would be an uphill battle. "Merle..."

They both spoke at the same time and stopped – Marion had giggled and Merle had grinned.

Marion had taken a breath – but then Dog had growled and she had turned, tensing slightly. The slim figure had moved between the trees and paused, waiting where others may have realised that privacy was needed. _Later_ Marion had decided _it could all wait for later._ She reached up and kissed Merle softly on the cheek, meeting his eyes for a moment before she turned around and held out a rag towards Daryl. "Thanks."

So she lay all by herself, thinking. If he wanted his brother more than he wanted her, she supposed that made sense. He had never admitted that she was more than his travelling companion – despite their physical closeness over the last few months. She had thought that he cared for her, and the analytical part of her brain knew that once she had recovered from the rejection that she would be able to see that he still did care for her – it was just that his brother was a higher priority. And she couldn't blame him for that; she had always known that Daryl was the centre of his world, even when it was slightly warped. _She should have expected this_, she told herself and forced back the tears that threatened.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

_Fuck fuck fuck _groaned Merle inwardly, staring up at the tarp and listening to the rain. He wasn't going to be able to sleep, he knew that. Dinner had been bad enough, but he still hadn't been able to get close to her afterwards – she was busy doing chores and surrounded by people. He'd resorted to following her into the trees, feeling a burst of pride with how quickly she had drawn the blade even though it was _after_ she had bumped into him. He had looked down at her, knowing that she still must be pissed with him for his behaviour – that she must have been really really pissed to not even sleep with him. It wasn't like the last few months had all been rosy – they'd had some arguments, some fights even although she never hit him because her sense of fairness wouldn't let her. Merle would have rathered she did hit him, although she could actually make a bit of an impact after the lessons he had given her, rather than the tongue lashings she had on occasion let loose. And he would much rather one of those, even if it had to be in front of all of these people, rather than this icy standoffishness that she was currently dishing to him.

He had snorted at her excuse at being caught out and looked down at her. He wanted her to know that he knew he had fucked up, that he had control of his rage and that he could handle being there with Daryl and her. "Marion..."

They both spoke at the same time and stopped –Merle had grinned and Marion had giggled.

He had watched her take a breath – but then Dog had growled and she had turned, tensing slightly. The slim figure had moved between the trees and paused, waiting where others may have realised that privacy was needed. Merle glared at his brother, opened his mouth to tell his brother to piss off when she had turned back to him, placing a hand on his chest to balance as she planted a kiss on his cheek. "Night Merle," she said softly as she came back down to the ground.

"Night Marion," he had sighed and watched her hand a rag back to Daryl before walking away. Dog looked at him, at the retreating Marion and then back at him. He'd flicked his chin up and the animal had scampered after her.

"_What_ she call you?" asked Daryl, coming up closer to him, tucking his rag back into his pocket.

"Never mind," Merle waved his hand in dismissal, looking at his socially dysfunctional brother with some affection. "Ya'll git used ta it."

So he lay there by himself, the camp quiet with the only movements from the pair on watch and the dripping rain. Dog had visited again, ducking out of the tent after the light had been extinguished to nose him in the face, his tail wagging slightly. "She don't want me," Merle whispered, gently touching his head. "I fucked up Dog." He gritted his teeth. "Ya look after her t'night – 'k?" The dog had given him a quick lick on the hand and then bounded back to the tent, looking once over his shoulder before disappearing. Merle sighed, hearing Daryl's raspy breath beside him. _At least it wasn't all bad – he'd found Daryl._

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

A hug snore vibrated through the air and Marion sat bolt upright just as she managed to drop off to sleep, seeing the slight shadow as Carol did the same thing. For a moment they stared at each other, only just able to make out each other's outline and suggestion of a glimmer of each other's eyes.

Another snore ripped through the silence and Marion sighed, Carol covered her mouth with her hand as she giggled. "Is that Merle?" she whispered.

Marion nodded, then realised the woman wouldn't be able to see the movement. "Yep," she whispered. "Whenever he sleeps on his back." She patted on the ground until she located one of her boots, reaching out with the other hand to unzip the tent past the bit she'd left for Dog. "The trick is," she started, "to throw so that..."

There was a loud thump, a responding grunt and a growled "Fuck owf" followed by a different growl "roll tha fuck ova ya prick" as Daryl dealt with the issue in true Dixon style.

Carol giggled and Marion put her boot back down, her eyes dancing as she said dryly. "Or that'll work."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

My personal belief is that it takes a monumental event to make someone with prejudice actually change their thoughts, which often come without you wanting them to. So while Merle may outwardly behave, I consider that to be because he is making the effort to curb his natural response – hence the thoughts will retain the racial (and sexist) slurs.


	70. Chapter 70

Chapter 70

She stared at the bite mark in her arm, the perfect impression of 30 teeth through skin and muscle. The blood was running freely over her arm, dropping into a pool as she looked up, meeting those beautiful blue eyes that almost didn't fit the lines in the face. She saw the pain, the anguish that erupted from them and her very being grieved for his pain. Then she saw the anger, the fury and she sobbed. Then she saw the resolution, the decision as he gripped his knife tighter. He strode towards her, his knife held firmly in his hand.

"Adios sugar," he muttered and then lifted up the blade, plunging it down into her skull.

Marion sat up suddenly, swallowing the sound that her throat was about to make. She stared wild eyed at tent wall, taking in ragged breaths, seeing the slight suggestion of light pushing through. _Dawn._ Dog whined a little and she placed a hand on his head in reassurance. "Well that was new," she breathed quietly, thinking and realising that this was the first night that she had been in a tent since that night. She glanced over to the other side of the tent, seeing Carol's body curled up in a ball, her hand extended a little from her body as if reaching. Marion lay down again, hugging Dog close as he crawled up between her body and arm.

Marion couldn't remember the last time that she had woken up alone. Even when Merle had left their bed earlier than her he would make a point of kissing her forehead to rouse her sufficiently to hear his explanation of where he was going. Most times it was a five minute job that would see him curling back up against her before she had fallen back to sleep; sometimes it was a longer interval and she would pull herself out of the blankets to stoke the fire in readiness for what he would bring back from the snares.

"Hell Dog," she breathed and his cold nose nuzzled at her. _She needed to fix this_ she decided. She threw the blankets back and rolled up, pausing to pull her boots on. A slight noise caught her attention and she looked over to where Carol was moving slightly in her sheets. Dog whined and crawled over towards her, yelping as Carol sat up suddenly. Marion smiled at her sympathetically. "Morning."

"Morning," replied Carol, catching her breath. She looked up at the tent. "Time to get up."

"A bit early," replied Marion in direct contradiction to her actions.

"Daryl will need some breakfast before he goes out," she shook her head slightly and extracted herself from her blankets.

But both of them froze as they exited the tent – the tarp on the outskirt of the camp was empty except for two messy piles of blankets. "He went hunting already," said a voice from the side and they both turned to T-Dog, holding a rifle over his shoulder. "Both of them," he added as an afterthought. Carol nodded once in acknowledgement, and Marion swallowed. "You getting breakfast Carol?" he added in a hopeful tone.

Carol's face relaxed into a smile. "Hungry already Theodore?" she said in a teasing tone.

"Got to keep my strength up," protested T-Dog with a grin.

"Want some eggs?" asked Marion.

"Eggs?" Carol stressed the plural as she turned to her, T-Dog's face optimistic.

Marion nodded. "Penny gives us about 5 eggs a week, but we hit a farm a week or so ago, the same place we found the veges. There was a flock there, inside a pretty decent fence – kept the geeks away. Took me an hour of dropping eggs into a bucket of water – but I got a few dozen that weren't off. We've eaten some of them but...," she shrugged.

The camp rose to the smell and sounds of frying eggs and some loaves of fresh bread. T-Dog, after patiently waiting for a couple of hours, picked Marion bodily off the ground with his hug as he was presented with baked beans, eggs, a thick slice of bread and a dab of butter that Marion had been protecting in an earthenwear jug. The others weren't quite some demonstrative but all accepted the meal with heartfelt thanks and smiles. Even Rick's face relaxed into an open grin, one that Marion doubted that he had allowed for weeks if not months, as he was handed his plate and pointed towards the sauces, his quiet but sincere 'thankyou' before he turned to plant a kiss on Judith's head making Marion blink rapidly to avoid tearing up.

Maggie and Beth shooed Carol and Marion away from the dishes after breakfast had finished. It had been decided the night before that they would stay at least one other night, although anything that wasn't needed was packed in the vehicles in case a quick exit was required, so Carol accepted the assistance with a smile only to go and get some more washing. Marion picked up the clothes that she had been going to wash, her pile being much smaller than Carol's, and the two of them walked downstream of the pond a little way – Dog bouncing at their heels. The morning was occupied in quiet conversation – both of them finding things to remember and compare about their daughters as they first washed and then spread the clothes out to dry; Carol being unusually excited to see that Marion carried a clothes line and pegs even if there wasn't enough for the whole load. The hot summer air basically sucked the moisture from the clothes, none of them were wearing heavy fabric to begin with and the continual wear had made some of the items bordering on threadbare.

It was lunchtime before they made it back, laden with clean and dry clothes, Dog bouncing around with Carl who had come to check on them during the morning and had almost had an arrow in his hide for his trouble. Marion glanced up with a grin still on her face and stopped. Her eyes narrowed as she looked around and realised that he wasn't there. She noticed Carol stiffening as well, but neither of them said a thing as fell into the task or organising lunch with Lori and Maggie helping. Other duties were found to keep the afternoon busy but her anxiety level was rising – she knew Merle was more than capable and obviously his brother was as well – they would be a perfect team. But the world was different now; even those two could be overwhelmed by a big enough glitch or group of unfriendly people. She was just coming to the point of approaching Rick, who she had noticed had started looking with some worry towards the treeline when Dog sat up suddenly and pricked his ears.

Merle sashayed into the clearing, Daryl following half a step behind in a more casual stride. Merle was laughing – showing his features at their best – Daryl a more reserved smile. They were unharmed, loaded up with little furry bodies – and totally unconcerned.

"Marion?" said Carl suddenly, totally oblivious to any tension in the two women next to him. "Why do you talk funny?"

Marion turned her head suddenly, her eyes lighting up.

"Carl!" said Lori in soft, but embarrassed rebuke, bouncing a grizzling Judith while trying to peel potatoes.

"Maaaaaaate," exclaimed Marion in the widest accent she could must. "It's not me talking funny – I speak perfect English. Youse are the ones speaking funny with all this 'ya'll', 'mah' this and 'mah' that. I mean a yawl is a type of boat, 'Ma' is your grandmother's name!" She paused as Carl giggled. "I'm from _Ostra'ia_ mate, Down Under, the Wide Brown Land. Surely you've heard of it?"

Carl nodded, grinning – Lori and Carol were smiling as well.

"Merle has some troubles understanding sometimes too," she whispered, leaning in. "But if you go and pick that potato peeler off your mum – I'll give you a quick lesson."

Carl nodded eagerly and reached out to get the implement and vegetables off his mother. Marion looked around to tell Merle and her smile dropped. He was leaning up against the car – in deep conversation with Rick, Daryl, Glen and T-Dog.

_Bastard_ she fumed, as she waited for him to look up at her in realisationthat she might have been worried about him_, to acknowledge her bloody existence! _

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"Merle," she moaned as his hand traced up her torso, his thumb stretching out to tease at the bud that was thrust out for more attention. She moved slowly on him, languidly, almost teasingly and he bit back an oath at the exquisite torture she was inflicting on him. She knew where the line was; if she wanted him to take control, which he would do in one swift movement that would remove any suggestion of languidness, then she teased him to the edge; but if she wanted to drive then she increased her pace to match his growing desire. She sensed him now and started moving faster, reaching out for his hand and stump to brace herself to control the angle just where she wanted it.

"Oh Merle," she moaned again and he closed his eyes, putting his head back and stretching his neck out as the explosion built within him. She moaned again, and again, then the sound changed – she groaned, the grip on his hand and stump tightened, becoming almost claw like. His eyes snapped open and he stared at the pasty white figure above him, the brown eyes covered by a milky film, the lips retracted across the teeth in a snarl, the prominent bite mark bleeding from her arm. She groaned in hunger and leant forward, towards his neck...

Merle's eyes snapped open and for a second he forgot to breathe. Then the sound of the rasping breath behind him, the embers of the fire, the shadow of the six tents, the reflection of the stars off the cars resolved into memory of where he was. _Daryl, camp, alone_. He eased himself up on his elbow to look through the camp to the tent in which Marion had slept, seeing Dog most of the way out of the tent flap looking intently over to him. _Must have made some noise_ he thought while shaking his head. He saw the gentle movement of the tent fabric as Dog wagged his tail before retreating back into the tent. Merle watched for several moments, waiting to see if the movement would wake Marion and she would come out – he might be able to get her alone this time _and then what? _demanded a caustic voice. _Ya going to say you're sorry are you?_

In truth Merle didn't really know what he would say and it was with a slight sensation of relief that he saw Marion hadn't been disrupted by Dog moving about and wasn't coming out of the tent. He sighed and lowered himself back down, rolling onto his back to look up at the tarp. The rain had stopped but the droplets were hanging hard to the edge of the tarp and around; there was a distinctive sense of nature just having done the rinse cycle – it was still cool. A slight noise caught his attention and he rolled his head – Daryl was lying flat on his belly, one arm half extended to rest on the bow, his face squished into the ground. He was grimacing in his sleep, his breath catching and then hissing out. It was something Merle was familiar with; his brother had never slept well since he was a kid – it really just wasn't safe enough – and he would constantly dream, but very rarely would he wake up; he would continue to suffer in silence. Merle reached out, as he would often do as a teenager and young man – when he had been lucid anyway – and touched Daryl's shoulder.

The blue eyes suddenly snapped open, one hand tensed on the bow and the other lifted a knife in the air. Merle smirked and the hands subsided, Daryl hooding his eyes and relaxing his head back on the ground. He had only come to bed about 2am in the morning – just enough time to get a little sleep.

"Still 'aving nightmares lit'le brot'her?" he teased. "T'ought you'dve grown out of t'at?"

Daryl just snorted and rolled onto his back. "It's almost dawn – ya comin'?"

Merle didn't need to know what Daryl meant – hunting at dawn had always been a matter of survival in the Dixon household. He didn't bother replying; he just threw his blankets off and started to his feet. Neither of them made much noise as they gathered their weapons and pulled on jackets – Daryl nodding once to T-Dog as they left the camp and received one in return. Merle glared at the man – and received one in return.

The forest was darker than the area of the camp had been, but they were both sure footed and they ghosted through the trees. An unwary hare jumped the wrong direction, there was a whoosh and Daryl stepped forward to extract his bolt and tie the hare to his belt. He reloaded the bow quickly and efficiently and fell into step beside his brother. There was another skitter and he flashed his bow around – but lowered it as he saw Merle's knife through the squirrel. Merle smirked _ain't entirely fuckin' useless_ and gathered up his kill. The number of kills on their belts increased as they continued – Daryl's bow more effective due to the range but Merle catching enough that he wasn't overly worried. His brother had improved with the bow _necessity is the wonder of invention _he could almost hear Marion saying. It brought something else to mind.

"Ya still got me gear?" he asked suddenly.

Daryl paused, looking at him sharply and then dropped his head. "Most o' it," he admitted. "'ad ta use some of it for T's infection, Carl got shot, t'en I needed some..."

Some part of Merle was amused that Daryl had taken his question to mean his stash, another small but extremely vocal part screamed at the use of his drugs for _a nigga_ but he focussed on the last part. "Wha' 'appened ta ya?'

Daryl shrugged. "Got an arrow stuck in mah side."

"Ya wha'?" demanded Merle, observing the slightly embarrassed way Daryl ducked his head. "How tha fuck did ya manage to stick yaself wit' an arrow?" It didn't cross his mind that someone else would have put it there.

"I fell down a ravine," Daryl all but mumbled.

"Wha'? Ya 'ave ya fuckin' 'igh 'eels on or wha' Darylena?" snorted Merle.

"No!" snapped back Daryl. "Weren't carryin' no purse either," he added somewhat randomly and Merle raised a brow at him. "Got t'rown from a horse – it spooked at a snake."

Merle snorted. "Wha' ya doin' on a 'orse anyway – must be 25years since ya sat one."

"Should 'ave stuck ta walkin'," admitted Daryl. "Was lookin' for Sophia."

Merle nodded, he'd heard enough about Daryl's search for Sophia and could understand, with an element of guilt, the fixation that he would have had to find the girl.

"T'ere's a bit left," Daryl returned to the original issue. "Ya need it?" he asked diffidently.

Merle shook his head. "Nah – I'm done with it." It was the second time he'd said that to his brother and he hoped that this time he might be believed. "I meant me ot'er stuff – me wallet an' t'ings."

Daryl turned and looked at him, surprise clear on his face – perhaps a glimmering of hope. "Yeah – ah still 'ave 'em," he nodded. "Yer wallet anyways. Yer clothes are gone – used up somewhere along tha way. Got yer key chain, yer bottle opena, t'at picture of you 'n me," his voice tailed off. "Yer magazine."

Merle frowned _magazine?_ His face cleared into a smirk. "Oh," he said in tones of appreciation. "Well as long as she's bin used up proper – I'll swap ya t'ough – tha one I got now is sweet 'n all but I wouldn't mind checkin' Feb'urary out."

Daryl snorted and Merle's eyes narrowed _so he was getting some was he? _ He passed the camp's women through his head, discounting Maggie and Lori because of their obvious pairings, discounting Michonne because although if he'd been colour blind he could see her potential there was no way that she wouldn't clash with Daryl. He considered Beth for a moment – the pretty young thing might like the idea of a redneck protector, but Merle figured that Herschel might have something to say about that. So he was left with Carol or Andrea – the former he could imagine Daryl being drawn to because of the former abuse, without even realising it he reckoned that they would have gravitated to one another – safety in numbers. And based on what Daryl had described, he had thrown himself into the hunt for Sophia – even from what he had seen at the camp, there was no way that Carol would have left that contribution go un-noticed. Andrea was a different kettle of fish, more of a match to Daryl spirit wise perhaps and he reckoned that the prissy clean cut bitch would have found the idea of slumming with the redneck appealing. _He would have to keep an eye on his little Casanova brother._

Merle looked up at the sky – it was mid morning _Marion will be wondering_ he thought and opened his mouth to suggest that they return back to camp. Before he could utter a word though there was the sound of an axe. Daryl froze immediately and Merle stilled himself as well – both of them hardly breathing as they listened intently. There was another blow and then there was a drawn out creak, a "T'ere she blows!" sung out in a jovial male voice and a massive thump which moved the ground and air as a tree fell to the ground.

Daryl was down on his haunches and he gestured with his hand – Merle nodded once and they angled to the west, moving silently but swiftly. The road appeared out of nothing and they propped, carefully making their way forward to where they could now hear a number of male voices. They dropped to the ground and crawled the last few yards, peering through the understorey.

_Hillbillies _Merle decided immediately, mountain men, _and women_ he noted after a more careful look at one of the figures, that very rarely came down from their log cabins, eating squirrel as a staple and growing a limited supply of food. Just as likely they had been doomsayers – those convinced that the ATF was servants of the devil come to ensure that they couldn't protect themselves when Satan arrived. He snorted inwardly _they'd be as happy as pig in shit – probably why they had come down from the hills_.

Daryl didn't say anything and Merle looked him over – he was tense, the bow loaded and pointed to the group, his eyes moving across the group, assessing them. "We need ta tell Rick."

Merle snorted again. "Tell 'im wha'?" he demanded with anger. "T'at t'ere's some hillbillies wit'in 'alf a day's walk away? Let's go and see wha' t'ey got."

"Some well armed hillbillies," retorted Daryl, eyeing off the military rifles held by the majority of the group.

"So," shrugged Merle. "We can 'andle t'em," he started to straighten.

A vice latched onto his right arm. The smile dropped from his face as he looked down at his brother.

"We go back and tell Rick," Daryl said deliberately.

"Ya his bitch now?" snarled Merle.

"Ain't no-body's bitch," snapped back Daryl.

"Ya can't make a decision wit'out 'is approval," started Merle.

"Ah am makin' a decision," interrupted Daryl and Merle blinked somewhat. "Ah'm sayin' it's too risky fer us ta go in wit'out backup." Merle's mouth opened _he didn't need any backup except his brother _but Daryl spoke again. "Wit'out tha others even knowing where we are."

Merle subsided _fucking brother was starting to sound a lot like Marion – fucking calculated intelligence_ and he nodded once. "Ok," he said quietly, ignoring the slight look of surprise that registered in Daryl's eyes; the slight delay it took for his hand to release its grip.

They took the return journey at a quicker pace but it was well into the afternoon when they neared the camp.

"Merle," Daryl's drawl stopped Merle and he turned. His brother was looking uncertain, his mouth opened once, closed, opened again and then closed.

"Spit it out Darylena," he drawled.

"Don't under estimate Rick Merle," said Daryl in a rush. "He ain't what ya think he is. He will do what he thinks if needed – if he thinks yer a threat ta tha group..."

Merle saw the seriousness in his brother's eyes, the concern for him, for the group. "Ya miss ol' Merle lit'le brot'er?" he smirked to cover up the ache in his heart.

Daryl snorted. "Miss yer bad tempered ass? I bin enjoying tha fuckin' peace 'n' quiet."

Merle laughed and they stepped out into the camp. He looked up, searching the camp for Marion's figure. He finally found her – she was talking to some of the others, looking away from him even though he could see Dog standing and waving his feather tail gently. _She must still be pissed_ he thought.

"Com' on," grunted Daryl, nudging him with his shoulder as he cut across the front of him.

Merle looked at Marion's figure again, seeing the others laughing in front of her _fuck_ and dropped his head, following Daryl towards Rick.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Hah! Unintended pun with 'clash with Daryl' – Clash is a great story by Narnian at Heart about Daryl/Michonne. You'll have figured out by now, even if you missed my AN at the start of this story (it was like what a century ago?), who I 'ship' but it is an interesting pairing with lots of potential.


	71. Chapter 71

Chapter 71

"Daryl?"

The majority of the camp had woken up with Carl's first projectile vomit the first night. Even the Grimes' _family_ tent was small and there was just no way two adults could move quietly in the dark while trying to rescue a baby and assist a wretchedly sick young boy. Marion and Carol had woken up with Dog's first growl, throwing themselves out of blankets and through the tent flap with weapons braced; Marion fighting a serious case of panic attack. She had almost laughed with relief when she realised what the ruckus was about but swallowed the reaction, knowing it wouldn't look good and not comfortable enough with even Carol (who she had gelled with) to explain it. Carol had passed her weapon over after only a moment and went straight to the Grimes' tent; Marion anticipated Judith being passed out and had ducked into their tent to make some space and pile some clothes into a bed. She had waved away Carol's rueful face and apology as she returned with the grumbling baby and lay down without much expectation of getting any sleep.

She had been right, but hadn't anticipated the swiftness with which the baby started to mimic her elder brother's symptoms. Dog had bolted out of the tent flap as Judith had first started throwing up a little before dawn, startling first Merle and then his brother onto his feet with gun and crossbow drawn. Both of them had come towards the tent to see what the trouble was but had baulked at the overpowering smell and were more than happy to retreat when so instructed – memories of sick Dixon men scary enough to create almost harsh tones from the two women who had had to care for them. Rick had then imposed a strict quarantine on the two tents and for the last three days the group had been split in two, trying to restrict the bug that left Carl dismal and little Judith listless despite the medicine that Herschel located under Marion's direction. Lori was struck down after lunch and Carl was moved out to be with Carol and Marion. Rick instructed Daryl from several metres away, his face drawn with lack of sleep and worry for his sick family, and a heightened roster of watches was commenced, four people on guard around the camp at any one time. Rick was next to his wife and sharing her bucket before dusk – Carol, who had copped the worst of Judith's reflex woke up at dawn the next morning and gave a strangled moan that made Marion grab for Judith and drag a sleepy Carl out of the tent quickly to prevent any risk of re-infection. She had then had to walk continuously as the baby who was still feeling unwell and therefore refused to sleep unless she was in motion. Marion managed to make it to about lunch before she had handed the baby to her slightly recovered elder brother and dashed for the trees; Dog whining on his side of the 'line' between the camps.

Rick had forced himself back to his feet the following morning but as soon as Daryl had reassured him that there had been no sign of the other group he had collapsed back onto his bed for the rest of the day. Beth had decided that she could be the sacrificial lamb and crossed the boundary to help Carl look after Judith for the day until Lori had surfaced. Carol had pushed herself out next and then Rick had followed shakily. As the last one to get sick Marion was the last one up but was in better shape, Herschel theorised that her recovery was probably because of the better variety of food that she and Merle had been consuming over the winter. Beth had stayed for the whole of the next day to ensure that she was not going to get sick and everyone sighed in relief when Herschel pronounced that the pandemic was over.

Rick had taken Herschel's advice and deferred their departure another day – those that had been sick were still a little weak and the increased watch roster had tired out the others – both mentally and physically. Merle, who had taken over Beth's watch even before she had started nursing, and Daryl were the only ones not crashing in the middle of the heat. Marion suspected it was sheer orneriness that kept them going.

"What?"

Daryl looked up from where he was perched on the dry edge of the weir wall, letting his feet dangle in the cold water, and glared at her for disturbing his peace in a way that she suspected he used like an armour.

"Oh that's very good," she approved even as she took the extra couple of steps to put herself within a metre of him, the spot she was standing forcing him to look up a little to meet her eyes. He blinked at her tone and her tone became teasing. "I've been with your brother for months now – you really think you can scare me with a look?"

His lips twitched and he looked back down at his hands, moving them again. "Whatta ya want?" he asked in a low voice.

"To learn that," she said frankly.

Daryl stopped again, looking up at her and then at the half made arrow in his hand. "Wha'?"

"We've been fortunate so far," she explained, "not to run out entirely of bolts and finding supplies in random places. But it's been close a couple of times – I would like to learn how to make my own, like you're doing."

"Git Merle ta show you," he almost grunted and turned away.

Marion sighed in exasperation. "And that, you see, is the problem. Merle can't _show_ me. You don't think that we've tried this once or twice? Apparently I don't hold the knife right– 'tip tha blade up, no! Not that far – now ya've gone too far, back again Fuck it woman!'" she mimicked the way a dozen conversations had gone. "And I simply cannot work with Merle's method of explaining things."

Daryl snorted but was looking up at her strangely. "Yer got a blade?"

Marion nodded and pulled the dragon handled blade from the sheath on her hip, extending it hilt first to him.

"Ya fuckin' kiddin' me?" demanded Daryl.

She shrugged. "It may be a little ostentatious, but," she smiled slightly. "It has sentimental value and Merle _was_ able to show me how to keep the blade sharp. It's balanced," _he should know that from how well it threw _"and the dragons actually make it easier to drag it out of a geek's skull – gives me some leverage."

Daryl had plucked the blade from her fingers as she was talking and he nodded once, almost as if in approval. He tossed it in the air, caught it and extended it back to her. "A'right," he said shortly.

Marion blinked, unsure if that word was in relation to her request or a comment on her blade.

Daryl looked up at her. "Well wha' tha fuck are ya doin'?"

_The first one_ Marion realised and quickly hurried to perch next to him, maintaining an appropriate _Darylish_ distance so that he didn't feel crowded. She took the stick of timber that he held out to her and listened as he described and demonstrated why that piece of timber was just right for the arrow. It was information that she knew, Merle having explained the concept to her quite clearly, but she didn't interrupt, letting him warm to the task and taking note of the slow deliberate way that he chose his words. He picked up the in progress bolt and demonstrated how to edge the timber, making the angle smooth from the full diameter of the shaft to the tip at the head. Marion studied his hands carefully while still maintaining the appropriate distance between them.

"Now ya give it a go," Daryl commanded, handing her a new stick.

Marion took the timber and held it her left hand, taking the dragon blade in her right and angling it along the grain. Daryl hissed and she stopped. "Yer blade is too low," he corrected and she lifted it. "Too far," he said before she could start again and she obediently changed the blade's angle again. "Too far agin," he snapped and Marion gritted her teeth. "Fuck lady – ya blind or what?" he snapped.

"Don't you start with me Daryl Dixon," she slapped both the blade and the timber down onto her knees and turned her own glare onto him – one built from years of conveying wordless warnings to young children. "Show me!"

Daryl blinked somewhat at the tone that accompanied the glare. He hesitated, but leaned forward, reaching over and grabbing her hand and twisting it. Marion leaned in, her head brushed his and he recoiled, snatching his hand back and moving physically along the wall.

"Settle petal," she chuckled, but then sobered as she saw his face. "Your arm was in the way," she explained. _Not that it would normally be a problem _suggested an admiring inner voice. _Focus!_ "I couldn't see," she added. "Please?"

Daryl stared at her – she met his gaze as calmly as she could. He nodded and moved back towards her – he reached his hand over and she leaned in to be able to see – he stopped and she looked at him. Slowly, as if scared, he reached his arm around her shoulders, lining his arm against hers and linking his fingers over hers. It put her back against half his chest – she could feel the thud thud of his heart and her own cracked a little at the thought of the poor little boy who had been so scarred that he was afraid to touch a woman in even such an innocent way. "Ya 'ave ta _tip_ the blade like this."

"Oh!" Marion exclaimed as he changed not the lateral angle of the blade as she had been expecting, but its vertical angle. _Frigging hell_ she thought to herself as he guided the first stroke down the timber, his strong and calloused fingers overtopping hers. He let her hand go at the base and she twisted the timber for another stroke – he corrected her angle a little but didn't interfere with the stroke. The third stroke she made all by herself, although she frowned at the result.

"Yer a little deep on that one," Daryl confirmed her suspicion as he pulled back away from her and picked up his own knife and blade.

Marion held out her hand for another one and he looked at it. "I'll help you get some more," she promised.

He gave a grunt and picked up his stack and put it between them.

Marion blinked at the action, surprised that he was willing to trust her – even in something so basic – so easily. Then again, she had arrived with his brother – obviously that carried some type of weight. Thinking of the older Dixon made her pause, she looked up. It didn't take much to find him – he was traipsing the other side of the pond. She hadn't spoken to him for days – the last time when she had warned him away from the tent. _She hadn't really been able to talk a lot since then_ she thought ruefully. She was still a bit weak – she'd decided to give herself a nanna nap in the afternoon despite taking it easy so far this morning. _Tomorrow _she decided, tomorrow she was going to nail the bugger to the ground and have a conversation with him.

She glanced out of the side of her eyes at Daryl – he was focused on his task and almost seemed to have forgotten she was there – he was relaxed and comfortable, his feet soaking from the ankle up. Her own feet were lucky to reach the water unless she deliberately reached her toes for it. "You're not what I expected," she said suddenly. _He hadn't forgotten about her_ she realised as the eyes snapped straight up to her. "Your brother has a ... unique way of describing you," she added in explanation.

"Ya mean he thinks ah'm a lily livered pussy?" he smirked.

"What comes out of Merle's mouth doesn't always relate to what he actually thinks," Marion snorted. "He says a lot he doesn't mean and doesn't say a lot of things he means." She turned directly to Daryl. "You're more ... contented than I thought you'd be."

Daryl's brows rose – she gave him a smile and turned back to the shaft she was working on. "Crap," she swore as the last five centimetres snapped off. "Oops – sorry," she grimaced and then smiled again as he wordlessly handed her another.

"Ya ain't what I would 'ave expected either," he said quietly. She looked up and his eyes ducked back down to his hands. "Tha only women that 'ave ever put up with Merle fer any length o' time... well – they weren't like ya," he finished lamely.

Marion chuckled and looked up across the pond again. She quietened for a moment. "Do I want to know about his past?" she asked softly and received a very intent look. "He's told me a lot about you, about childhood, about what happened to him – but I suspect he's glossed over his own part in the things that have happened – or he perhaps doesn't remember them," she added wryly. "You could probably tell me more about him."

Daryl looked at her for a few more seconds, then looked across the pond and watched his brother amuse himself by hurling one of his throwing knives into a tree. "Ya know him how he is now – I reckon that's all that counts."

Marion nodded and turned her attention back to her hands. "Ah-ha!" she exclaimed in triumph after some minutes in silence and brandished the perfectly sharpened bolt under Daryl's nose. His lips tipped up in a smirk but he merely pointed at the pile between them and with a sigh she picked up another.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle walked slowly towards the group, his watch having ended and taken over by the dour looking Michonne, who glowered at him as she passed – but he figured that was her normal expression so he gave her nothing more than a cursory glare. Truth to be told he was on the edge and it wouldn't have taken much to get a bigger response, but whether she could see that or not she made no further move – not though he suspected from fear of him _she was one icy bitch_. Throwing the knife into the tree continuously for an hour had relieved some stress, but the sight of his brother with his arm around _his woman_ (even if she wasn't speaking to him) had made his blood boil. Good sense had inserted itself into his brain waves just before sound had come out of his open mouth and he had subsided as she saw that Daryl was teaching her how to make her own bolts – something that he had simply not been able to do without his right hand. _Could teach the woman how to shoot a bow and a gun, teach her how to shave her legs with his knife – but simply could not get her to angle the blade properly against the small diameter of a bolt. _Daryl's arm and hand had returned to where it should be and Merle had taken a breath – burying his jealousy and turning back to watch for geeks. Neither he nor Daryl had been that far out of the camp during the last few days, the double watch structure removing any allowance for luxuries such as hunting. There was enough food for the moment so he hadn't been worried about the absence of fresh meat– but it meant that there had been no advance clearing of geeks either, it was only a matter of time before they arrived right on the doorstep.

Merle yawned as he walked – despite being off shift and meant to be asleep he had woken as Marion had come out of her tent with the Grimes' kids. He had sat up, Dog thump thumping his tail. She had glanced over in his direction and shook her head once – not a warning, just an acknowledgment that there was nothing wrong _except for the fact that she was over there_. She had paced the through the night; every time that she had stopped the baby had started grizzling and after a few attempts to soothe her had ended in a full blown wail that cut through the night like a knife she had just continued walking. Merle had watched her move, attracted even from the distance to the sway of her hips, her general form that was silhouetted by the fire, the gentle movement of her unfettered chest. Dog had given him a slight growl and he had sighed, resolutely lying on his back. He had dozed on and off, lulled by the sound of Marion's humming – he suspected as much to keep herself awake as the baby asleep, until Andrea had come to rouse him and Daryl for watch. He had in fact been asleep later than day when Dog had jumped up; he had sat up in time to see Marion dash for the trees clutching her mouth. An armed Maggie had deviated from her watch path to follow at a respectful distance, so Merle's immediate worry was settled. Full well knowing his limits when it came to nursing, and vomit being one of the shorter ones, but knowing that there was no-one capable of helping her still on that side of the camp he had pulled himself out of his bed and sat next to Beth while she was making lunch. She had been a little scared of him, but willing to talk with him and so with careful suggestions he had managed to convince her that she should go over to that side of the camp without her even realising she hadn't thought of it.

It had been that night of constant that had inspired her latest idea, and perhaps some of what had to to have been a discussion on the properties of the local timber. It had taken five of them a couple of hours, but they had apparently managed to assemble a bouncer for Judith – not a fandangled one which rocked itself and played music but an old fashioned one using sapling timber instead of metal for the frame, an old shawl as the backing fabric and an occie strap as the restraint that held the baby in. Judging by the look on Judith's face as Lori sat on the ground and used her hand to bounce her gently it was going to be a hit.

_Now maybe he could get her alone._

"That'll do pig, that'll do" sighed Marion in satisfaction, sitting back on her heels.

Merle stopped suddenly _she didn't..._

Rick's brows rose, Lori's contracted and Glen's opened wide – all looked at her.

"Guess ya've rubbed off on 'er a bit then," drawled Daryl laconically next to him. He had walked from the tent as Merle came off watch – whether to protect the group from Merle or Merle from the group Merle couldn't be sure.

His voice carried and Carol covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hide a smile and stifle a giggle.

"What?" Marion frowned and looked up, flashing once across Daryl to Merle, meeting his eyes and seeing the amusement in his eyes. He watched her look at each of the others, staring at her with a range of disappointment, anger and surprise, and could also hear her playing her last words back to herself. He saw her realisation in the sudden paling of her skin. "Oh no! No, no, no, no, no" she exclaimed hurriedly. "Not because you were a policeman," she explained to Rick in mortification. "It was a Babe reference!"

Rick's brows rose even further but his eyes softened into amusement, Lori's took on an indignant shade and Glen's mouth dropped open. Merle started to shake his head – even without knowing exactly, he knew where this was going.

"Fuck woman," sighed Daryl and Carol giggled.

"Oh no, no, no, no – I didn't mean it _that_ way" Marion exclaimed again, her face reddening. "Babe the _movie_! The little pig that could!" she rambled. "It was based on a book – he learnt how to speak to the sheep – learnt the magic password – won the national competition," she stumbled to a halt. Carol was openly laughing at her now and Rick was grinning. Lori had relaxed into a smile but Glen was looking outright confused.

"A sheep-pig?" Daryl was staring at her with disbelief.

"Yes," she said defiantly. "It's a classic! He was raised by a sheepdog, he felt left out when his litter mates learnt how to round up sheep, but he didn't want to be nasty – this old ewe mentored him..." her voice trailed off.

"'ang on sugar – Imma coming!" Merle called jovially and grabbed the shovel, mock running in her direction. Several pairs of eyes turned in astonishment to him, then the bubble of laughter that had been building burst out.

"Oh get stuffed," she snorted lightly even as she bit down on a smile at his antics. "Crikey – the bloody sequel was even set in New York." She sighed and stood, grabbing the small axe. "I'm going to get some more firewood."

"Don't go too far," called Rick in a semi composed tone.

She lifted the axe in acknowledgement of the command without looking around. Merle straightened off the tree, ready to follow her, but saw Beth jog after her, a couple of buckets in her hands and he sighed _blocked again, he'd get her when she returned_.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"I liked Babe," said Beth and Marion turned around, pausing to let the girl and Dog catch up. "It was cute."

"I read the book when I was a kid," admitted Marion as they walked through the trees. "The girls liked the movie though."

"Maggie brought the dvd home once when I was young," said Beth. "It was a bribe so I wouldn't tell dad that the boy from the farm down the road cam to _help _her with her homework!"

Marion grinned at her, seeing the innocence in the young girl that had somehow managed to survive despite the horror around her. _It was a credit to the group_ she thought; somehow they had managed to protect her from the worst of it.

They wandered around for a while, picking up the small pieces of timber and putting them into the buckets, using the hatchet when the pieces needed trimming. Staying in one spot for so long had meant that the ground had been picked over often, so they wandered further than normal. Beth rambled happily for a little while, but after not getting much response from Marion said almost hesitantly "you're not mad are you?"

"Mad?" repeated Marion with some surprise, looking at the slightly apprehensive face. She smiled "no sweety, I'm not mad." She considered that perhaps her quietness did need some explanation. "Sorry – was I ignoring you? It's just... I am a little bit peeved actually – but not at you."

"At Merle?" guessed Beth.

_No prizes_ thought Marion ruefully and nodded. "He was just a jerk when we stumbled onto you lot – he pissed me off. Then..." she paused, she didn't really need to be discussing the fact that she was jealous that he had dumped her for his brother with Beth. "He's just been a jackass."

"I thought it was 'arse'" giggled Beth.

""Jackass' is some type of donkey," instructed Marion. "A Jackarse would be the rear end of a man called Jack." Her face relaxed into a grin as Beth giggled again. She sighed "I really need to talk to him – but we just can't seem to get anytime alone – first he was out hunting, then I got sick."

Beth's face formed an 'o'. "Oh and now I'm in the way."

"Don't be silly," dismissed Marion. "I doubt he's even thought anything of it." _He has his brother after all._

Beth's face twitched like she had an opinion on the matter but though her mouth opened, she said nothing.

"Come on," Marion decided, looking down at their overfull buckets and piles of larger branches ready to drag back. "Let's get back."

Dog growled suddenly and Marion dropped the bucket, whirling about. Beth gasped as a hand came around her chest, pulling her tight against a hard male body and the cold steel of a gun pushed against her head. "Now now sweetheart," leered another man as he stepped out of the trees. "We just got 'ere – tha least ya cin do is stick 'round and show us sum love."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

There may have been some unintentional fangirling streaming through my consciousness during this chapter. Don't hate Marion for it!


	72. Chapter 72

Chapter 72

Marion let the axe fly – it was not her weapon of choice however and while a creditable throw it was off by enough that the man was able to step slightly to the side to avoid it. His arm snapped up with a gun and Beth whimpered as the other man tightened his grip.

"Hey now," protested the man with a grin of most of a mouthful of caffeine stained teeth and a head of carrot shaded hair. "T'at ain't nice sweet'eart. Ya should be nice ta us now – we rescued ya from tha plagued ones."

"You didn't rescue us from anything," Marion snapped. "We're just fine thanks. Let her go and we'll be on our way. You can keep the firewood even," she offered.

"Ain't firewood we after," scoffed Bluey (as he had just been named by Marion's head), still advancing slowly on her with the gun extended. "We was lookin' fer somet'ing else ta keep us warm at night."

Marion gritted her teeth – she had her knife but that was all. The bow and the sword had been left behind in the prissiness she had left the camp with; she had already tried with the axe. She could scream – the others would probably hear it although the most likely hearer of their group was standing behind her ankles with his hackles up. Merle would come – she had no doubt of that, no matter what was going on between them he would come for her. But by the time he got here, because unless she was able to maintain the noise he would have to track them and she and Beth had meandered all over the place, she had no idea where they would actually be. She could attack the man advancing toward her – but she was no hand to hand expert (geeks were not the same as a thinking human being) and while he was slender she had a suspicion that, like Daryl, he was all wire _although there was obviously no crossbow in his arsenal_ the impish side of her brain noted. Even as the logical part snapped that thought closed her eyes narrowed with the realisation. The bow _was_ in her arsenal and she therefore she would be stronger than he would think she was. _She could wait until he got closer_ her thought again was closed off as she heard a whimper from Beth, her lip curling as she saw the other man taking advantage with his hand. She braced herself.

"'ey!" snapped Bluey and Red (just because the two names went together) jumped. "'ands off ya idyit – ya want Mama ta find out ya touched 'er b'fore ya was wed?"

Even as a part of Marion rolled her eyes inwardly she felt some relief and she subsided as Red almost guiltily put his hand away. The requirement to be wed was going to give her some time to figure things out; to put herself in a better position to fight. _Time_ she thought and looked down "Go get Merle," she said quietly, but urgently to Dog. "Merle!"

"ey!" shouted Bluey as Dog spun on his heel and ran back through the trees. Marion stepped to the side, blocking his line of sight and he lowered his gun slightly. "So yer tha tricky one is ya sweet'eart?" A grin spread across his face. "I reckon Ike'll take a fancy ta ya t'en."

_There were more of them? _Marion swore inwardly and recalculated her options. She glanced over at Beth – the grip around her was more respectful but still tight.

"Let's go," the gun nudged and with an inner curse she turned obediently, dragging her foot slightly to make sure that the path was clear and keeping an eye out for an opening. They walked for about ten minutes and then the trees cleared to a road and a rusty old dual cab ute. Marion stopped at this new development – she thought that they would be on foot only; a vehicle was an entirely new development. Before she could decide to make a move however a hand caught her tightly around the elbow and the gun was pushed into her rib cage. "Move sweet'eart," he whispered into her ear.

Gagging slightly at the odour from his mouth Marion took a couple of steps before reefing her elbow out of his grip. He chuckled and let her go.

"Beth!" shouted Marion as she whirled, her hand withdrawing the knife from the sheath strapped to her back and flashing it across his startled face. Her second hand followed in the spin and with a clunk the gun was dislodged from his hand. She hissed at the pain but made a dive for it – at the same time he did. He landed on top of her and she grunted as her breath was driven from her body just as her hand closed over the handle. His larger hand closed over the top of it and for a moment they struggled for control. Feeling herself losing Marion swung the blade around at him – he yelled as the blade bit but didn't let the gun go; instead he lifted up his fist and drove it into the back of her head. Stars exploded into Marion's eyes and she faltered, but stabbed upwards with the knife again.

"Marion!" called out Beth and Marion looked up; the fight left her as she saw Beth kneeling on the ground, her head held up by a handful of hair, a knife pointed at her eye.

"Billy Bob prefers 'is bitches ugly," warned Red. "'e says it stops 'em 'ttracting ot'er men. Ya wants me ta give 'er ta Billy Bob?"

Marion took one look at the terrified brown eyes and dropped the knife. Her face hit the dirt again as she copped another hit in the back of her head, but the weight was lifted off her back and then she was dragged to her feet roughly. She swayed a little and got a shake.

"Git in tha fuckin' truck ya bitch!"

Beth clambered into the back door and Marion followed, giving the young girl a shove that made her keep moving to the other door, but they both pulled up short at the sight of Red grinning at them. He opened the door and pulled the door shut, holding the gun in Marion's general direction and putting a possessive hand on Beth's thigh. Marion snarled at him but obediently left the door handle alone, pulling the seatbelt over her purely out of reflex and watched dourly as Bluey opened the driver's door. The vehicle coughed and for a moment Marion felt hope, but after a backfire or three the engine finally coughed to life and the vehicle started off down the road.

"You really should let us go," said Marion quietly.

"Why tha 'ell would we do t'at?" laughed Bluey. "Two _fine_ lookin' women like yerselves."

"We weren't alone," replied Marion. "Our group will be coming for us. They'll track you down – they'll find us," the last she added in an urgent tone more for Beth than the two men.

"Ain't no-one can track a truck on tha road," snorted the passenger.

Marion gritted her teeth wishing that there'd been some way to damage the car; make an oil leak – something clever that would let Merle, and Daryl, track their progress. "It might not be today, it might not be tomorrow," she warned, "but they _will_ find us. And they won't be happy if we are not in perfect condition."

The certainty in her voice; fuelled by her knowledge of Merle; by her observations of how tight the group was; by what she had heard that the group had had to do – it gave Bluey pause and his eyes met hers in the rear-view mirror. She held them steadily, trying to convey as much of that certainty into her gaze as well as hide the fear of what may happen to them in the meantime.

Red snorted, breaking the spell and Bluey looked to the front. "'ell sweet'eart – ya goin' ta love our place. T'ere's eight o' us – and Mama of course. She'll teach ya 'ow ta cook, me and me kin can 'unt anyt'ing. Ya'll be safe, ya'll 'ave food and water, ya can raise our young uns..."

"Wha' tha fuck?"

Marion couldn't agree more with Bluey's sentiments, shuddering with the mental picture called up into her head. Then she realised that the vehicle was slowing and that Red was craning his head to look to the front. She leaned in a little towards Beth, looking through the windscreen. She smiled at the sight of the large figure in the middle of the road – just standing there, too far away to see what his expression was but she knew what it would be – with a white ball of fluff at his feet.

"Told you," she said in satisfaction, moving one hand to grab Beth's and take it to her seatbelt buckle, moving the other hand to the door handle. "You should stop here – let us out and get the hell out of here boys."

Red snorted. "It's only one man."

_But what a man_ thought Marion. "I'm telling you for your own good boys." She saw the figure move now, taking a slight step and lifting the rifle, wrapping the strap around the stump and pulling it tight into his shoulder. "Pull over now."

"'e ain't goin' ta shoot," scoffed Red.

"Yes he will," said Marion. "Let us out – now!"

Bluey jumped at the crack in her tone and for a moment she thought she had him.

"Run 'im over Jeth," instructed Red from the relative safety of the back seat. "'e ain't goin' ta shoot wit' t'ese lovelies in 'ere wit' us."

"He will," said Marion, again with total confidence. She knew that Merle would no more be able to stand by and do nothing than he could fly to the moon. He would do something. She gave Beth's hand a squeeze and made ready.

She hit the back seat as the vehicle suddenly accelerated. _Shit_ she thought and rapidly changed her plans. Her hand near her seatbelt reefed it tight across her hips and she released her hand on the door.

"Hold on!" she yelled and twisted her body over Beth as there was a sudden explosion and the vehicle swerved.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

_Fuck, fuck, fuck_ cursed Merle routinely as he ran, Daryl and Rick with him, Dog bouncing ahead of them. He had no idea what was going on but the fact that Dog had arrived at a dead run and barked at him and was now hardly even waiting for him told him that it was bad.

The camp had settled into the afternoon routine, everyone still smiling or chuckling randomly at the images of the sheep-pig which had been explained in greater detail by Carol who had apparently watched the movie on dvd with Sophia. Without the timber the fire couldn't be stoked further so Carol and Lori had settled down to try and make a meal from what supplies they had.

"Excuse me Merle?"

Merle had looked up from cleaning his gun to see Lori standing slightly diffidently at the edge of his tarp.

"We're a little low on food – would you mind if we borrowed some of your supplies?"

Merle had noted that Rick had imposed a strict rule on his son about poking around in the back of the truck and that no-one else would approach the vehicle without Marion present. He had been slightly surprised though that he was given the same courtesy. "Go for it Olive," he had nodded, noting with sour pleasure as her lips tightened at the nickname. Her mouth had opened in another question but he forestalled her. "Whatever ya want from what's in tha tray – stay outta tha cab." She had nodded, managing a small thankyou and nodded Carol over to the tray where they had started opening up the box that Marion normally went to.

He had heard Dog barking and had stilled, frowning. It had not been a happy bark like when Marion was playing with him, nor had it been an excited bark like when he had found an errant squirrel, nor was it an angry bark like when he had spotted the alligator lizard eating his food – this was a scared bark, one that Merle hadn't heard before. He had dropped the pieces of the gun to the ground – knowing that the reassemble process would take more time than he had. He had run towards the vehicle, startling both Lori and Carol as he sent the interested Penny flying in a squawking rustle of feathers. He had grabbed the rifle and another handgun out of the back, only absently noting the interest suddenly given to him by Rick as he realised exactly the extent of the arsenal in the back seat.

"Merle?" had called Daryl, striding across the camp with his gun shoved into his belt and the crossbow held in one hand. "What yer doin'?"

Merle had opened his mouth but then Dog arrived in camp, barking frantically and Merle ignored his brother. "Dog," he had called out and with almost an element of relief the animal scurried over to him, jumping up and pawing at him. "Where is she?" Merle had demanded.

Dog had turned on his heel and Merle started to jog after him – suddenly though he had found his way stopped by the sheriff. "Git outta me way Grimes," he had snarled.

"What's going on Merle?" Rick had stepped to put his body in the way. Merle had tensed, ready to throw the slighter man out of the way when Daryl arrived as well, putting his body between them.

"Marion's in trouble," Merle had said and as if to prove the point Dog had barked, definite frustration apparent in the sound.

Rick had turned to look at Dog, clearly torn.

"Beth's with Marion," had said Maggie from a couple yards away and Merle's blood boiled _as if that kid was more important than Marion_.

Rick had looked up at Merle once, then to Daryl and received a nod. "Maggie, Glen – take the car, follow the road and see what you can find. Carol, Lori – get the essentials into the vehicles. T-Dog, Andrea – get whatever else of the camp that you can ready to roll. Michonne, Carl – patrol, make sure nothing and no-one gets through, ok?" The commands had rolled off the sheriff's tongue effortlessly and despite himself Merle found himself impressed. "Herschel..."

"I will go in the car," had stated the old man firmly. "In case one of them needs medical attention."

Rick had nodded, it was clear to Merle that nothing could be said that would change the old man's mind. "Let's go," had been the next command and Merle had blinked.

"Let's hunt," he had replied and started to run after Dog.

"Can you see anything?" asked Rick now as they ran.

"Moving too quick," Daryl shook his head, his eyes scanning the ground regardless of his words.

"Follow Dog," snarled Merle.

"Are you sure he knows where he's going?" asked Rick. "He's hardly a bloodhound."

Merle snorted. "T'ese two're joined at that 'ip – he ain't goin' ta forget where 'e left 'er."

And sure enough in another couple of minutes Dog stopped and started sniffing the ground near two buckets full of twigs and a pile of larger pieces. Rick dropped back and let the two hunters cast over the ground in front of them. "'ere," said Merle suddenly. "Marion left a mark."

"T'ere was a man 'olding Beth," said Daryl.

"Are you sure he was there?" asked Rick slowly and Merle smirked as Daryl turned a 'ya fuckin' wit' me' look at the sheriff – who must have realised how the question sounded and pointed wordlessly. The Dixons turned and Merle felt his stomach drop as he saw the hatchet stuck in a tree some yard ahead of where he was standing on her mark. Daryl took the few steps forward, coming to the tracks before he reached the line of the throw.

"Second man," he confirmed. He looked up and met Merle's eyes. "Hillbillies."

"FUCK!" yelled Merle. He pointed the barrel of the rifle at his brother as he lifted his hand. "I told ya...!"

"Enough," snapped Rick and Merle turned murderous eyes onto him for interrupting. "This is not _finding _them."

"This way," Merle said shortly and started to jog after the marks that Marion had left, part of him realising that she had been making an effort to leave them which meant she wanted him to be able to track her quickly. She seemed to have a bit more freedom than Beth who was being basically pushed by the man directly behind her – _a gun or two, Beth in danger_ he translated, knowing that Daryl would read the same signs and needed no urging to move quickly.

There was a sudden sound and they halted, trying to swallow their breathing to let them listen again. Dog whined and Merle reached his stump down to him. The engine noise was repeated and a third time, then the engine fired to life. It was only a short distance away by the sound of it and they immediately leapt into a flat run. Merle heard the vehicle start to move and changed his run, angling along the sound's trajectory and hoping that there wasn't a cross road that would take it away from him. Dog barked at him, but followed, his ears flat on his head as he overtook Merle. Dimly Merle heard Daryl and Rick shout at him, then at each other, and then it was only Daryl following him as he crashed through the last of the trees and growth to arrive on a road.

The vehicle was coming steadily along the road, he could see a driver and the almost luminescent blond of Beth's hair in the middle of the back seat – but he couldn't see Marion. He eyed the vehicle as it came towards him, looking at the angles offered to him by the amount of tyres he could see and the windscreen. He saw Daryl crash through onto the verge and then halt, looking at him and then back at the vehicle. He put one knee to the ground and aimed his bow.

The vehicle slowed a little and Merle fingered the gun, looking past to where the sheriff should be coming out anytime soon – if that truck turned around and managed to escape he would be wringing _fuckin' Officer Friendly's neck_ but on cue Rick came out, holding his weapon low and ready as he started to come after the vehicle. Merle lifted the gun, wrapping the strap securely around the stump and burying the butt into his shoulder and looked down the scope.

"What're ya doin' Merle?" called Daryl with some concern.

"Goin' ta take tha tyres out lit'le brot'er," he responded. "Pull it up just in front o' ya – better be ready Darylena," he warned.

"What if ya miss?" asked Daryl.

"Ain't goin' ta miss," snarled Merle _when did he ever miss?_ There was a sudden noise of acceleration and he smirked as he realised that the tactic was to run him down. "Git ready lit'le brot'er," he called and squeezed the trigger.

The old tyre, with no safety features at all, exploded loudly and Dog jumped. The truck started to swerve as the driver lost control of one side of the vehicle and Merle lined up the other side – he didn't want the vehicle to actually tip over. The second bullet missed and he cursed, even as he heard the squeal of brakes behind him, and he held his breath this time and he pulled the trigger on the third bullet. There was another explosion and then a squeal of rubber as the flat tyres refused to drive the heavy vehicle any further and the vehicle slammed to a stop with a shattering of glass as the driver was hurled through the windscreen (1).

"Are you crazy Merle?" screamed Maggie, running past him to get to the back door with Glen close behind. "You could have killed her!"

"Na – woman was always harpin' on 'bout seatbelts," he shrugged, kicking the limp and groaning figure on the ground in front of him and reaching over to pull the gun from the waistband.

"Ah think she was talkin' 'bout Beth brother," drawled Daryl as he crossed the road to where Glen was heaving on the passenger door.

Merle stumbled, not breathing until the door was pulled off its hinges and Daryl dragged a groaning man clutching at a profusely bleeding nose out of the car. The blond stumbled out into her sister's arms and Merle winced at the noise they made as he made his way to the other side of the car.

"I t'ought t'ese t'ings were meant ta save ya life," he commented as he pulled the other door open. Marion looked up at him, both hands on the buckle. "What if ya was in tha water – ya'd drown."

Marion glared at him "piece of old crap," she cursed, tugging fruitlessly at the seatbelt latch one more time. She let the belt go and looked up at him. "Well do you mind?"

He chuckled and, placing his knife carefully between her and the belt, sliced through the webbing. He sheathed the knife and held out his hand – she grabbed at it, wincing as she came out and stumbling a little. "Ya good?" he asked, tipping her chin over a little and examining the roughness on her face.

"I'm good," she nodded, smiling slightly up at him. "Oh you good boy Dog," she exclaimed as Dog jumped up at her, patting his head. "Merle," she started, taking hold of his forearms and looking up at him.

"Don't kill us!" pleaded a voice and her voice stopped, her head snapping around to see Rick up close and personal with Red – Beth glaring at him from the safety of her sister's and father's arms.

Marion released Merle's arms and reached around behind him, dragging out the gun that she knew was going to be there. She almost pushed him out of the way, striding around the front of the vehicle and grabbing Bluey by the arm, giving Glen a quick shake of her head. "Get up shithead," she swore at him, grimacing at the pain in her head and accentuating her command with a sharp motion with the gun. "Rick," she called as she came around the truck. "He's mine."

Merle watched the sheriff blink; perhaps surprised that she would speak in such harsh tones. But he nodded and withdrew his weapon – Red looked up and whimpered at the set look in her eyes. "no, no, no please," he sobbed.

"Get the fuck on your feet," she told him emotionlessly and with a look at who Merle presumed was his brother and then around the others – none of whom was even showing pretence of sympathy – he dragged himself to his feet, blood pouring around his hand down his shirt.

"Is she..." Glen paused as he stopped next to Merle, watching Marion march the two down the road and into the trees. "Will she..."

Merle was shaking his head and opening his mouth to say 'no' when there was a gunshot. Glen jumped and Merle closed his mouth _she wouldn't..._ Then there was another gunshot and Merle twitched, ready to follow her into the trees and rescue her from whatever her rage was going to make her regret. Then there was another gunshot, and another and he relaxed – she might not be an ace with a handgun but she wasn't that bad a shot. Sure enough the two men burst out of the trees and started sprinting down the road, Marion coming out and almost casually aiming the gun and shooting close, but not too close to their legs.

Daryl snorted and turned away, heading to the car – then seemed to go through the mental process of counting bodies and instead turned into the trees, Rick following him. Maggie half carried the still sniffing Beth towards the vehicle, Herschel standing still as he watched Marion turn and make her way back towards them.

"That was awesome," grinned Glen.

"Are you sure that you won't regret leaving them alive?" asked Herschel gravely.

"They're young and dumb," Marion shrugged, standing a little too close to the tray of the truck and holding a little too tightly for Merle's liking. "I don't think that they actually _meant _us harm – they were just running wild without any boundaries. We're ready to go though right?"

"T and Andrea are packing up now," nodded Glen. "They'll be ready to go by the time we get back."

"Oh no rush I don't suppose," Marion shrugged and looked at the front wheels of the vehicle. "By the time they get up the gumption to come back and change these tyres it will be after dark and I doubt that they'll be ready to take us on then," she offered a smile to Merle.

"Yep," snorted Merle. "T'ey'll be needin' a new set of pants by tha time t'ey get back ta tha others."

"Others?" frowned Marion and Merle felt a sudden sense of foreboding. Glen must have felt it too because his smile suddenly faltered and he started backing away. "What exactly do you mean _others_ Merle?"

Merle tried to think of something that he could say that would put off the storm that he could see brewing in her eyes. He wasn't quick enough though. "You _knew_ about these arseholes?" she demanded. "You knew that there are _more _of them?"

"A family of 'em," he admitted sullenly. "Daryl 'n' me found 'em when we went huntin'."

"And you didn't think to tell me?" she demanded sharply.

"We told Rick," he started.

"We?" she exclaimed. "As in the royal 'we' Merle or do you mean you and Daryl?" She didn't wait for an answer – she didn't need one. "Of course it was you and Daryl – it's _always _you and Daryl now isn't it? The fact that _I _might find this information of some value didn't cross your mind?"

"Why did ya t'ink we 'ad double watches?" he groused.

"Oh perhaps because there was four of us flat on our backs with some type of unknown disease that might have been some type of variant on the virus," she snarled at him.

_There was no arguing with her now_ he could see. She was so riled up that she wasn't even making sense.

Marion glared at him. _He didn't even have the decency to explain himself_. "You _bastard_," she snapped at him and pushed past him, knocking her shoulder into his chest as she went past.

_Fuck_ thought Merle as he watched her climb into the car with Herschel close and, albeit with an apologetic look, Glen turned the car around and drove away. He was left alone, without even a backward glance.

_Well not quite alone_. There was a thump thump and he looked down at Dog. "Come on then Dog – let's start walking."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) Tango and Cash anyone? ANYONE? I don't know that I could handle the shower scene in this day and age, but back then... phew!


	73. Chapter 73

Chapter 73

_He had had her_ Merle sighed. _She was there, she'd smiled at him. Then he'd gone and opened his big mouth._

The rumble of the bike was almost achingly familiar, but his position was not. Daryl and Rick had been waiting for him in the trees; they'd returned to where Marion and Beth had been taken to retrieve the kindling, buckets and hatchet and then made their way to the camp. T-Dog and Andrea had got everything into the cars –his tarps had been folded up and placed in the truck. Even Penny was in her cage, although by the still ruffled feathers and indignation in her clucking Merle realised that her capture must have been a team effort. The little car had beaten the men back to camp; it had been turned around even and was ready to go. Andrea and Michonne were keeping an eye out but everyone else was in their vehicles ready to go. Andrea had walked up to them as the three men had come into the camp, passing Merle his reassembled gun, and then both women had moved over to the red truck. Rick had had some quick words to Daryl and then made his way to where Lori was even now moving out of the driver's seat and into the passenger seat. Merle hadn't heard what had been said – he had been staring at _his _truck in disbelief. _The bitch_ he had thought even as Dog had yipped and scampered to where the driver's door had opened for him and hopped up over Marion's lap to sit in the middle – next to Carol.

_FUCK_ he had thought even as his brother's step faltered somewhat as he too observed the transport arrangements.

"Hell," had snarled Daryl but said nothing to him as they walked towards the bike. There was an awkward moment as they had both headed to the front of it; Merle's lip curled slightly and he had stepped back, gesturing flamboyantly for his brother to take the handlebars. Daryl had given him a crooked grin, hanging the bow over the back rails and throwing his leg over. The roar of the bike starting had been the cue for the rest of the group to start moving and one by one the cars had moved off, heading to the road that Merle had described to Rick. Daryl had stood up and looked at him, he had sighed and stepped up to _his _bike, throwing his leg over and sitting, biting down on his lip as Daryl had sat back down and the bike moved off.

"Wha' tha fuck?" growled Daryl, the words faint over the road of the bike but coming back to him because Daryl was half turned his way. They had been driving for a couple of hours; Daryl had overtaken the cars and they were now a good fifty yards ahead of Rick's vehicle, Merle carrying the rifle casually over his knees and taking the occasional pot shots when a geek stumbled out onto the road. "Hell," Daryl cursed again, his eyes in the side mirror.

"Wha?" demanded Merle.

"Tha bitch is all ova tha fuckin' road," explained Daryl, trying to glance over his shoulder again.

There was only one woman driving so Merle did not need an explanation. "T'at's just 'ow she drives," he explained. "She'll forget where she is and end up on tha left 'and side outta 'abit – t'en she'll change back ag'in."

"She's weaving all ova tha road," snapped Daryl, his eyes in the mirror.

Merle frowned and turned around awkwardly. He hadn't let Marion drive very often during their journey, but sometimes it had been necessary or she had just plain forced him into it, and he had never seen her drive erratically. But as he focused on his truck, at the far end of the convoy he understood Daryl's concern, the truck was weaving – not by much, but distinctly weaving off a straight line. As he watched, his truck came to a sudden stop and Marion threw herself out of the car, down the slight dip off the edge of the road and amongst the trees. "Git back t'ere," he growled.

"Left," advised Daryl, slowing the bike and tipping the handlebars so that the bike turned in a tight circle, both of their inside legs walking along the ground to balance it. The bike straightened and Rick slowed his car but at a small sign from Daryl his worried expression faded slightly, even as he pulled the car to a halt and looked out the window. The other two car fulls also pulled to a halt, again Daryl gave them a slight reassurance as he went past.

"She's alright," said Carol through her open window. "Just still feeling a bit sick."

"Horseshit," said Merle harshly and stood off the bike as it came to a halt. "Ya bin sleepin'?"

Carol blinked but nodded. "Just dosing," she admitted slightly defensively, swinging back around to look over her shoulder as Merle opened the back door.

"Are ya still sick?" demanded Daryl.

"No – just a little tired," replied Carol slightly tersely facing him briefly before again turning to Merle. "Merle – what are you doing?"

Merle was in fact rearranging the back seat, removing some things out entirely and throwing into the bed and putting other things into the foot well. "Can ya drive?" he demanded.

"I beg your pardon?" Carol frowned.

"Can ya drive or not bitch?" he snarled. He couldn't remember ever seeing her drive and given her husband's attitude to her, he thought it would be a distinct possibility that the answer would be no.

"I can drive," she said with steel in her voice and eyes, even as Daryl muttered an indistinguishable protest.

"Good," nodded Merle, looking up and catching the tail end of a filthy look that Carol had just sent his brother. "Move over t'en," he instructed.

Carol hesitated and he almost exploded with frustration. "Look – Marion 'as a concussion, she's goin' ta need ta lie down for tha rest o' tha day and night. If ya can't 'andle drivin' – git on tha bike and I'll drive."

Without a word Carol unbuckled her seat belt, something Merle would have found amusing in another frame of mind, and slid over behind the wheel. Dog yipped from where he was sat waiting on the edge of the road and Merle walked around the back of the truck as Marion staggered up the slight incline. He held out a bottle of water without a word and she looked up at him, the pain evident in how sunken her eyes were, and took it carefully. She took a mouthful, swished and spat it out before having a long drink. She pushed it back in his general direction and he shoved it under his stump, reaching out to open the door for her and ready to catch her if she fell. She managed to crawl in though and with a sigh lay down, giving Carol a wan smile as she asked a worried question. Dog leapt in and snuggled next to her, Merle leant in to place the bottle next to her. Her hand came up, catching at his forearm.

"Thanks Merle," she said quietly, meeting his eyes for a moment. "I ..."

"Go ta sleep sugar," he interrupted her gently, turning his hand so that it clasped hers for a moment. She gave him a weak smile and closed her eyes. He released her hand and backed out, closing the door firmly. He walked back around the truck to find Rick standing next to Daryl.

"She alright?" the sherriff asked in concern.

Merle nodded and swung his leg over the bike behind Daryl. "She musta bin 'it in tha 'ead. She gets dizzy – t'rows up some. Let 'er rest a bit and she'll be fine."

"We can't get to the trailer park tonight anyway" said Rick, referring to the place that they had marked as a potential stop when they had been studying the map in the last camp. They had figured that it would be fenced and that perhaps some of the trailers would be empty and could be used as shelter. "There's a bridge up the road a bit. If it's clear we can shelter underneath it – have water close by. Stay there for the night."

Merle nodded and Daryl stood up to kick the bike over, rumbling past Rick as he walked back to his car, the rifle balanced back on Merle's knees.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Marion woke to a slightly softer seat than she was used to and a strange sense of absence of noise. She opened her eyes and stared in confusion at the roof of the vehicle, trying to work out the source of the warmth at her waist and the two breathing patterns. _Merle?_ she thought only to discard it almost immediately. The warmth wasn't big enough and the breathing wasn't heavy enough to be Merle. _Dog_ she realised was the warmth; _Carol_ was the other breathing sound. Memory came back with a rush, although still hazily. She could remember Merle holding her a bottle of water and then shutting her down when she went to apologise for her earlier words. Her head had been ready to explode by then and she had fallen asleep almost before the truck had started to move. She had dim recollection of someone shaking her awake and looking into Herschel's eyes, of hearing his dulcet tones and her own voice replying before oblivion had taken her again.

It was night time now so she had obviously slept for several hours. Gingerly she sat up, reaching around for the bottle of water that moved as she did and having a drink. Dog thump thumped his tail at her and she reached down to give him a pat. She looked over the front seat to where Carol had curled up in a ball, a gun tucked underneath the coat that had been rolled up in a pillow. The windows had fogged up slightly despite a couple being open a little and she rubbed at one to look outside – the starlight gave only a slight illumination that reflected off the running water and the bonnets and rooves of the other cars close by.

Quietly so not to wake Carol she scooted down towards the door and pulled the catch, pushing it open with her feet. Dog jumped out lightly, his coat shining in the starlight and she lowered herself to the ground. Her foot landed on something and she lifted it instinctively, turning with her blade in her hand even she touched firmer ground. She squinted in the blackness and reached down carefully, pulling the object towards her.

"Wha' tha fuck?" growled a half asleep Daryl, yanking the bow closer and lifting it in reflex.

Marion stumbled, first with the pull from the object in her hands and then in surprise at the sound of a voice. "Daryl Dixon!" she hissed. "What the hell are you doing under there? You scared the tripe out of me!"

"Was tryin' ta sleep," he groused, lowering the bow back to the ground and using his other hand to rub at his eyes. "Only got off watch at midnight."

Marion grimaced a little, feeling guilt at waking a man who (in her opinion) didn't sleep enough as it was. Her tone however was chiding. "My question remains – what are you doing under there?"

"Weren't worth puttin' up tha tents and what with the weather, all the other spots were taken," he explained a little testily.

Marion blinked and looked around. Behind her were the remains of a campfire, smouldering enough that it could be kicked over easy enough for breakfast, and the other vehicles. Judging on the crutches and hint of blond hair, Herschel and Beth were in the tray of T-Dog's truck, Andrea and Michonne rolled underneath; Maggie and Glen had squeezed together into the boot of their little car and she could see both Rick and Lori's heads against the glass of the rear window – she presumed that the smaller and more flexible Grimes had either curled up in the front seat or in the back. Out of the protection of the bridge that they were settled under the rain was sheeting down.

"Where's Merle?"

"On watch," replied Daryl and received a look which needed no words. He clarified "up on top of tha bridge. T is on tha other side of tha river."

Marion looked up at the embankment that Daryl pointed at and sighed. She was feeling good but there was no way she was in any shape to climb that to go and see him. It would have to wait until later.

"Ya feeling better?" asked Daryl seemingly on the same wavelength.

Marion nodded. "A little shady but nothing that a bit of food and a little bit more rest won't fix."

"Carol'll be up soon," estimated Daryl. "Is almost dawn."

How he could tell that Marion wasn't sure, for there wasn't even a hint of light in the sky but she didn't even consider doubting him. "She's been sick," frowned Marion. "She doesn't need to be getting up and serving people breakfast."

Daryl's eyes narrowed. "So've you – ya should be resting up some more."

Marion shrugged. "I'm all slept out for a bit."

"And what 'appens when ya overdo it?" he demanded.

She smiled – if Merle had been present he would have been able to warn Daryl about his impending doom. "Isn't it lucky that you're awake then to help me?"

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"Yar a dummy, ya know t'at don't ya?" commented Merle almost lazily.

Daryl looked over at him slightly sharply. "What? Ya bettin' on the woman brother?"

It was Marion's fault of course.

The smell of coffee had almost floated some of the camp out of their beds, Marion apologetically explaining that the tin had slipped down behind some of Dog's gourmet cans. There had been a pot of black tea for Herschel and, while she took a deep appreciative sniff of Rick's mug, a pot of herbal tea for Lori because Judith was not a fan of caffeine. All of the camp had expressed a little bit of surprise at seeing Daryl working the fire and cooking some freshly caught fish – only Carl had actually made it obvious though and had copped a look which promised a long serious talk about discretion from his mother. Carol had stumbled out of the car full of apologies and stopped short, her mouth actually falling open as Daryl presented her with some grilled fish garnished with a wild lemon and some dried herbs. Merle had returned from watch in time to see the smirk spread across his brother's face as he turned back to the fire and a smug smile of satisfaction cross Marion's.

The conversation had then made it onto the roles that the group were performing – Andrea suggesting that Daryl needed to be put in charge of the cooking more often. Carol had looked a little downcast and people had rushed to explain that it wasn't because she wasn't a fabulous cook and inventor of edible meals from basically inedible substances and combinations. "Even when we really enjoy something it's nice to have a change," had nodded Marion, meeting his eyes over the fire and offering a smile. "Housework was never all that inspiring and we don't even have a house anymore!"

"There's no reason why everyone can't change up the gender roles a little," had nodded Andrea, slightly superficially in Merle's opinion and he had observed the slight narrowing of Marion's eyes with a smirk even as he sat down next Daryl. Neither Andrea nor Michonne ever assisted with the domestic duties, although at least Michonne didn't burden them either – taking care of her own clothes and dishes whereas Andrea was happy enough to let her clothes and dishes be washed for her while she did her own thing. He knew that it didn't worry Marion that much– the woman was good with a gun and was apparently used to eating out rather than cooking for herself anyway– but the hypocrisy obviously miffed her a little. "Between mine and Maggie's guns, Michonne's sword, Carol's semi and Marion's bow I reckon us girls can cover the camp pretty good while you boys set up the camp."

Merle's brows had risen at the absence of two of the female members in the list but had been sensible enough to keep his mouth closed.

Daryl however hadn't been quite as quick. He had snorted lightly.

"Daryl!" had exclaimed Andrea in outrage. "You know damn well I can shoot the wings off a fly – Maggie is a farmer's daughter and knows how to shoot and Carol could be a sniper with that rifle of hers."

"I ain't doubtin' tha guns," had offered Daryl hastily, looking over to Carol.

Both Michonne and Marion had turned to him and Merle had been thankful to see that even his socially inept brother suddenly realised what trouble he had just landed himself in.

"It would be your last mistake to underestimate me with my katana," had pronounced Michonne in her careful tones.

"Oh it's not your sword he doubts," had said Marion in icy tones. "It's the crossbow – isn't it Daryl?"

_Boy needed a place to hide _thought Merle in amusement, watching those blue eyes dart about. "Bow's a man's weapon," the words had been forced out of Daryl by sheer expectation of all the gazes on him.

"So a woman can't handle it?" Marion's tones had dropped another few degrees with her words. Then her head had tipped to the side and her tone had become almost sly. "What do you want to bet?"

She hadn't been silly enough to bet directly against Daryl, quite candidly saying that given that he was born with the crossbow attached to his hand that it wasn't fair no matter what his gender. She had however proposed a contest between the men of the camp and the woman of the camp – as taught to shoot by Daryl and her respectively. Everyone had looked at Rick and with a slight smile he had nodded; Merle knowing that while the competition was frivolous that the sherriff couldn't pass up on the opportunity for more people to learn how to use the bow – the silence of which was a great advantage.

"She might kick ya ass," nodded Merle although not really believing it. Marion was good – but she had months of the weapon, Daryl had years. "And look who ya got ta work wit'." He didn't need to say the words – chink, pig, nigga ... democrat (because he really didn't have anything against the old man, he had dealt with him fairly enough) – Daryl would hear them in his tone.

Daryl's eyes turned around to where the rest of the group was working.

There had been a dozen strong glitch waiting inside the gate of the trailer park, trapped by a thick chain that needed all of T-Dog's strength on the bolt cutters to break. They were dispatched easily; the close work restricting the use of bows to the first shot but then the silent swords of Michonne and Marion and the knives of Daryl and Merle had done the bulk of the work. About ten trailers dotted the grounds, some with big red crosses on bolted doors, others with doors swinging open. The fence extended around the perimeter of the park and, while inside the grass was overgrown and there were some trees in groups sporadically around the place it, offered good vision around them.

The tents were being set up close to the amenities, the discovery of a full and elevated water tank being greeted with delight as it was realised that this meant not only running showers but flushable toilets. Merle had watched Carol and Marion set up the tent for only a few moments, his eyes narrowing at the stiffness in her movements, before turning to reef the tarps out of his truck and growling at Daryl to give him a hand _cause he was one short_.

"She's got worse," retorted Daryl.

Merle wasn't entirely convinced. The nigga bitch wouldn't have a trouble with handling the bow; _damn woman was tight with the sword work_. The farmer's daughter wouldn't have a problem either – it was the other two who would be a problem. Blondie had bonded with the gun and he didn't reckon she picked up anything heavier than a plate of food that was handed to her, but she was a determined bitch and she'd shoot the damn thing. He didn't reckon she'd listen to Marion though – knew her own mind too well and thought little of others. And Olive Oil – she was built like a twig and he reckoned she'd snap as easy _ain't no way that she'd hit a target_.

"Don't underestimate her brother," Merle warned. "She's tricky and clever."

Daryl snorted, indicating that he didn't need reminding. He gave Merle a sideways glance – Merle knew that he was itching to know more about Marion, about what she was to him. He knew that Daryl had seen the panic in him when she was missing; the risk he took getting her back; the way that he had helped her into the car, harassed Herschel into checking on her. He knew that Daryl had never, _ever, _seen him deal with a woman that way – that he might even be glancing at the _fuckin' _wedding band around his finger (that would not _fuckin' _budge) and wondering. He ignored the look; _Darylina was too much of a pussy to ask_ and continued around the perimeter, looking for weaknesses. _He didn't have an answer yet._

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..


	74. Chapter 74

Chapter 74

The training had begun directly after lunch– Marion taking a keen Andrea and Maggie, Lori and a not so keen Michonne to tutor them in the use of the bow and Daryl taking T-Dog, Glen, Herschel and Rick. It had been decided that Merle simply would not be able to participate, and he didn't bother arguing that he could shoot the bow as long as someone loaded it for him, and despite his best attempts Carl hadn't been able to either so the competition was restricted to four of each gender; Carol and Beth quite happy to sit out.

Merle had found it quite amusing that dinner was being organised by Carol while the others were competing; he contemplated getting up to help but comforted himself by the fact that he was actually babysitting the children. Albeit with a rifle over his shoulder and half an eye on the perimeter fence, which so far had proven to be secure to the odd geek which had stumbled onto them.

"Who do you think will win Mr Dixon?" asked Carl, his young sister propped in his lap chewing feverishly at the teething ring, Beth leaning back on her hands next to him with her legs in front of her. Both of them had looked up at him where he leant against a tree.

"Enough o' t'at kid," he said harshly. "Tha name's Merle." His voice dropped a little, almost talking to himself. "Ya t'ink I'm an asshole – I'm a fuckin' teddy bear compared ta me pa." Carl's head dropped and Merle's nose wrinkled. He heaved a sigh. "I reckon Daryl will," he said and the kids looked up in surprise that he had actually answered.

"Hey!" exclaimed Beth in outraged tones, _obviously having spent far too much time around Marion_.

"Ain't nothing 'gainst Marion honeypouch," shrugged Merle, missing the red that flooded across her face at his term. "It's what she's got ta work wit'."

"My mom can shoot good," exclaimed Carl indignantly.

"Wit' a gun maybe," Merle wasn't going to be convinced that Olive Oil could shoot straight until he had seen her in action. "Tha bow is different – it takes a lot of upper body strength. T'ay make lighter bows for kids and women – but we didn't 'ave tha luxury o' choice. Tha bow Marion 'as is too 'eavy for 'er really – she's built 'erself up enough to handle it, but she still gets tired after a while. Your mom – she'll be lucky ta lift tha thing. Michonne and Maggie'll be a'right. Andrea – she'll pick it up out of stubbornness but it shoots different to a gun; she'll miss."

His estimations were right. Both Michonne and Maggie drilled their three targets with ease but Andrea missed two of hers. Her disappointment, and embarrassment, was tempered by the fact that although Herschel had drilled all of his with the calm precision that he approached all of his life with, both T-Dog and Glen each missed one. Rick stepped up to the plate, but was unable to compensate for the different flight path of a bolt compared to a bullet and Merle shook his head as the last bolt went wide, missing the target entirely, Rick having only made one shot. T-Dog and Glenn groaned dramatically while Maggie and Andrea shouted in triumph. Rick offered an apologetic grin to Daryl as he returned the crossbow to him and Lori stepped up to the mark, taking a deep breath.

"No pressure," called T-Dog with a grin.

"Come on Mom!" cheered Carl who, with Beth, had abandoned Merle in the excitement and earnt himself a mock look of betrayal from his father.

Lori braced herself and lifted the bow and let the first one fly. It missed and there was a groan and a cheer from either side of the assembled group. Marion stepped forward to reload the weapon – drawing a protest from Daryl.

"The bet was that women couldn't shoot," retorted Marion, her practised muscles and calloused fingers making short work of the reloading. She whispered some words of encouragement into Lori's ear and stepped back – Lori lifted the weapon, bracing it hard against her shoulder to hold it steady and let the bolt fly. The groans and cheers traded camps as it flew true into the target.

"No pressure!" repeated T-Dog loudly. "It's not like it all doesn't rest on you Lori!"

Lori gave him a mock scowl as Marion reloaded the bow for her again. "Lori, Lori, Lori," chanted Maggie and Andrea. Lori put her finger to her lips and everyone quietened.

"No pressure!" called T–Dog; Andrea and Maggie howled at him even as Lori lowered the bow and turned on him with a glare. "Ok, ok," he held his hands up and mock zipped his lips shut. Lori lifted the bow again – closed one eye and sighted down the barrel and released the bolt.

It glanced off the edge of the target and there was a cacophony of groans and cheers.

"Tiebreaker!" demanded Carl, jumping up and down. "Come on Daryl!"

"Piece of piss," snorted Daryl and stepped up to the mark and casually let loose the bolt to fly to the furtherest target. The cheers erupted on one side of the camp.

Marion winked at Lori and stepped up to the mark. Never one to take anything for granted she lined the target up carefully; releasing the bolt and smiling as it landed almost on top of Daryl's.

"OH!" exclaimed Andrea dramatically, giving T-Dog a punch on the arm.

Daryl smirked and stepped forward again – he looked deliberately at Marion and dropped one arm, holding the bow with his trigger finger hand and releasing the bolt. "Take that!" yelled T-Dog as it whizzed directly to the target.

Marion wrinkled her nose at him but came forward again, settling her feet facing towards the target and the bow resting at her knee. There was silence, then she used her foot to kick the bow up in the air, braced it with her trigger hand and released the bolt just as the bow started coming back down. The bolt smacked into the target – not in the middle but close enough that even T-Dog clapped the effort while Carl and Beth jumped down with excitement.

_Clever bitch _thought Merle, smiling to himself _Darylina trying to get too clever. _ His eyes narrowed a little as he took in the assembled group, turning away from them even as Daryl walked back to the mark, to find Carol. She was standing near the fire, a smile on her face but with her arms wrapped tightly around her body. His head tipped to the side _if the mountain wouldn't come to muhammad..._and ignoring the roar that erupted when Daryl made his shot one handed and under a lifted leg he pushed himself off the tree. She looked up as he approached, offering him a slight extension of the smile which she had plastered all over her face.

"So whatcha reckon," drawled Merle, standing close to her. "You and me go 'n' bump uglies and leave the youngun's to make happy together?"

Carol looked at him sharply, an almost horrified look on her face before she took in his mocking smirk. She relaxed slightly and said in a quiet voice. "They're better suited."

Judging by the roar Marion had apparently made an equivalent shot as Daryl's and Carl was now heaving a piece of timber up into the air to be shot.

"Ya know – it was just me, Daryl and Pa from the time 'e was five," said Merle slowly, turning around and not looking at her. "'e grew up in a 'ousehold where tha hardest fist was king. Pa was a drunk; he'd whale into us just for tha fun o' it." He paused. "Ya r'member wha' I was like in tha quarry?"

Carol smiled absently, still watching as Marion fired off a bolt towards the moving target – thunking the bolt into the timber to a loud shout. "You were kind to Sophia," she said softly. "You peeled an orange for her." (1)

Merle blinked. "Well I was worse when I was younger," he said after a pause. "Anyt'ing Daryl cared 'bout I either tried ta steal or break. Any girl tha' saw t'rough 'is outer shell I scared away, any tha' 'e 'ooked up with I took off 'im. Eventually he just gave up and he stopped tryin' – he fucked women up against the wall just like me. He's never cared for a woman in all t'at time."

"But you're different now," she said – he had her full attention now and he glanced at her to find himself fixed on by those giant blue eyes of hers. Neither of them paid any attention to the noise around the two contestants.

He shrugged. "Maybe. But Daryl had 28 years o' me like t'at. 'e 'adn't seen me for ten years when I showed up on 'is doorstep and we went ta Atlanta. Ya know how t'at ended." He paused again, his voice shrinking a little. "Wha' do ya reckon 'is first t'ought was when I roared back into camp, pointin' a gun at me old friend Rick. Who do ya reckon he saw?"

Carol pulled her lip between her teeth. "He thinks he's protecting me?" she said dubiously, turning directly to him. "That's why he's avoiding me?"

"Don't know wha' tha fuck for," snorted Merle and for a moment her face registered pain at the slur, but her face changed again as he continued. "It's as plain as pigshit that he'd put a fuckin' arrow in me ass if I even looked at ya – look at 'im now, 'e's missed t'at shot just 'cause 'e's seen I'm 'ere talkin' ta ya."

Carol turned and looked over towards Daryl; Merle saw his brother meet her gaze briefly then drop his eyes sharply.

Marion reloaded the bow and took a deep breath. Her arm muscles were aching after demonstrating the bow to the women all morning and even using her foot hadn't been able to protect her arm from the intense work of holding the heavy bow up with one hand. She turned around and braced the bow in her hands, looking at the ground and nodding her head.

"Now!" yelled Beth and Marion spun, dropping to one knee and bringing the bow up to her shoulder as she searched the air above. There was a sharp pain in her back at the movement and she gritted her teeth, identifying the branch as it started to spin at the top of its trajectory, aimed and fired. The branch spun around and around as the bolt glanced off it.

"Missed!" yelled T-Dog.

"She hit more of it than Daryl!" protested Andrea.

Marion grinned at Daryl and received a smirk in response, a slight nod of acknowledgement and she felt an absurd burst of pride. She looked her shoulder but Merle wasn't looking her way and she sighed, using the bow to push herself to her feet.

"Daryl – I'd like to speak with you please," said Carol's voice quite firmly and there was sudden silence.

"It's a tie!" announced Rick abruptly. "Come on – let's get something to eat."

Marion's eyes narrowed a little as she watched Carol walk away, her back straight and her steps firm; Daryl staring after her. He looked around – catching Marion's eyes and she could have almost laughed out loud at the slight look of panic in them. Her brow rose in a challenge and his own gaze narrowed back at her; he turned on his heel and followed Carol towards the children's swing set.

"Daryl's up shit creek isn't he Marion?" asked Carl conversationally.

_Without the proverbial paddle _Marion laughed and reached out to rustle his hair. "Master Grimes – you are going to grow up to be a very wise man!" She turned her head again, this time catching Merle looking at her with a strange smile on his face, but even as she took a step to head over to him he turned his head to listen to Rick, nodded and walked away. _Fuck it Merle_ she thought and turned back to the kids.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Marion curled up in her blankets, staring at the top of the tent. _Alone again_ she thought in some frustration. Once again there just hadn't been an opportunity to talk to Merle – by the time he had come back from walking the perimeter it had been time to have the strategic discussion of what might be worth looking into before they continued on their way, and where exactly they were going to head. Marion could have joined them she knew, but her back was starting to throb a bit by then, so she had contented herself with washing the dishes, smiling as Glen stepped forward to take over in honour of the bet but hanging around to put dry and put away. He had then kept talking so that it would have been rude to leave him to speak with Merle – by the time she was free he was off on another perimeter walk. She could have just gone and lain in his blankets, but she wasn't entirely sure what his reaction would be and she didn't think she could handle the humiliation of being rejected. It wasn't that he didn't care for her – she knew that. He had come for her when she had been taken, she had never doubted that he would, and it had been him who had recognised and alleviated her symptoms of concussion. His eyes had met hers over the fire at breakfast – but since then there had been nothing; he had obviously just been checking that she was better. He hadn't even said a word about the contest. She sighed and resolutely closed her eyes. _Maybe if she was in his blankets naked – _that _would get a reaction from him_. She giggled to herself _it would certainly get a reaction from Daryl!_

Dog pricked his ears up and she turned her head a little – the footsteps were deliberate, but light. There were only two men that they could belong to. They came closer and she waited for them to stop and turn away, as they had previously, or to keep on walking straight past, as they had previously. But they didn't – they made their way to the flap of the tent and Marion half propped herself up as the figure bent to undo the zipper of the tent.

Daryl ducked in through the tent flap and Carol smiled up at him from where she sat at her bed roll.

"Oh, sorry" exclaimed Marion, sitting up a bit further and reaching for her shoes as she prepared to get out of bed. "I'll get out of here."

"Don't be silly," said Carol, pulling her bra out from under her shirt. "Stay."

"But you'll want privacy," ventured Marion, watching as Daryl laid his crossbow carefully on the floor and dropped his blade and gun to the ground.

"Ain't no privacy to be had in a camp like this," grunted Daryl. "Especially for someone as vocal as mah woman," he added cheekily and Marion's eyes lit up with amusement even as Carol blushed slightly and slapped his rear end. "I got early watch anyway," he added. "Then goin' huntin'. Git some sleep and ya can help me skin whatever I bring back"

"Oh joy," commented Marion dryly and met Daryl's smirk with one of her own. His eyes lightened and she lay back down, turning over and hearing his clothes hit the ground then the noises of the two of them snuggling, exchanging a few murmured words.

_He's alone now_ suggested an inner voice.

_Why can't he make the move?_ countered another, almost whining voice.

Dog whined and turned around on the spot, making himself comfortable.

There was silence in the tent except for the four breathing patterns.

It was only a couple of hours later when the dream woke her. She sat up suddenly, breathing hard, clutching Dog's coat in one hand as he licked her.

"Ya alright?"

Marion turned her head at the quiet question, looking over to Daryl's narrowed eyes. He was propped up awkwardly on the arm which Carol's head was pillowed on, his other he had apparently just returned to around her waist after releasing the bow. His shoulders were bare and she could dimly make out some of the scars that she knew were there but that he kept hidden even in the heat of the day. She nodded, rubbing her eyes. "Sorry," she murmured. "Just a nightmare," she added slightly unnecessarily. "I don't understand – I'd gone so long without..." she blinked suddenly and applied some serious thought to when she had experienced the nightmares before. Her conclusion made her roll her eyes inwardly _fuck's sake Marion_. She looked directly into his eyes, "I'll see you in the morning."

He said nothing, but watched her with slightly raised brows as she extricated herself and Dog from her blankets and grabbed her bow and knife before leaving the tent. She heard a slight snort as she walked away.

Merle was lying on his back as she walked over to him, apparently only dosing because he was not snoring. He sat up suddenly, flipping his gun towards her as she got within three metres of him. He lowered the gun and stared at her without saying a word but he smirked a little. She put the bow and knife on the ground and his mouth opened, but she turned her back on him and sat down on his left side, moving the blankets so that she could stretch out her body against his and placed her head on his pillow. She heard him heave a sigh, then he lay down too, slowly and uncertainly bringing his stump over her waist and then up between her breasts as if expecting to be rebuffed. _She should _she thought _but it felt so damn delicious. _His warmth spread through her from where his feet surrounded hers, from where her buttocks were pressed into his groin and where his breath ghosted at the top of her head. She smiled in contentment and closed her eyes, falling asleep in seconds.

Dog sniffed and jumped over the combined knees, turning in a tight circle and plopping down. He only growled lightly in protest at being disturbed when Merle moved his leg between Marion's and then all was quiet.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) "Somebody I used to know "by Delta 9. Her stories are fabulous but (at the risk of annoying Delta9) if you're an impatient person, do not read any of her WIP – wait until they are complete.


	75. Chapter 75

Chapter 75

A feeling of being watched woke Merle. He resisted it for a while; he was warm, warmer than he had been in a while – he had actually already kicked off the blankets. He was comfortable, although he could still feel the hard ground through the thin bed roll under his hip. His arm moved without him lifting a muscle and suddenly his brain recognised why he was so warm and comfortable. _Marion_. She was back in his arms. _Finally_. And yet not quite. She was on the wrong side. Not since _before _had she slept on his left side – even when they had had an argument over something, normally trivial, she always slept on his right hand side although she would sometimes restrict his hand's access to drive her point home.

Dog growled lightly and Merle opened his eyes suddenly, turning his head to catch his brother's eyes just as he lifted a foot. _Oh fuck._

"Goin' huntin'," said Daryl quietly, putting his foot back on the ground. "Ya comin'?"

For a moment Merle deliberated about telling him to piss off so that he would be there when Marion woke up, when she would stretch and push that rack into his arm, her ass into his groin and maybe even roll over and... He snorted _as if that was going to happen_. He nodded once, sharply and carefully pulled his leg out from between hers, conscious that Daryl had seen exactly how he had been cuddled up to her _like a pussy_. Dog jumped up, his head cocked to one side and then moved against Marion's back after Merle covered her over, knowing that she would wake in minutes from the cool air otherwise. As it was she murmured a little, frowning and moving her legs as if looking for him. He bent down towards her to kiss her like he always did, but conscious of Daryl's eagle eyes watching merely rested his forehead against her temple. "Goin' 'untin'" he whispered softly and her movements stilled. He straightened, his blue gaze almost daring his brother to say anything; Daryl met his gaze with a slight suggestion of a smirk and pushed off the tree he'd been leaning on. Merle picked up his knives, patted Dog on the head roughly and followed towards the fenceline.

The morning was quiet and only just showing a suggestion of dawn as they walked. They swung past the lures that they had set up the day before, removing the hares and other rodents that had made the mistake of not watching the path carefully enough. A couple of pigeons were a little bit slow on takeoff and both fell to the ground, one with a bolt through it and another with a blade.

Used to silence while hunting they hardly spoke, but every now and again Merle would catch Daryl looking over at him, like he wanted to say something but then changed his mind. _It was inevitable_ _now_ _of course _Merle sighed.

There was no way even _pussy Darylina _was going to let this one go. They stepped up over the top of a small rise and a herd of deer exploded into motion. Daryl let loose a bolt but it was out of frustration – the animals had disappeared on fleet feet. "Damn it," he swore. "That was a decent sized buck – could 'ave given us a couple good meals."

"We can 'ead round ta tha lake," suggested Merle with the map in his mind. "T'ey'll go t'ere ta get a drink when it gets hotter."

Daryl shook his head. "Promised ah'd be back b'fore lunch," he said almost shamefacedly.

Merle turned his head, lifting his brows. Daryl ducked his head and shuffled a little, reaching for his canteen of water. Merle watched him take a drink – _may as well get in first_.

"So you and the mouse 'ey little brot'er?"

Daryl glanced up once, then his eyes hit the ground again and he held out the canteen.

"You hittin' on t'at?" probed Merle further, looking intently at his brother, the canteen in his hand. "She ya woman?"

"We're... together," admitted Daryl softly. "Don't know that there's more ah can say about it."

Merle nodded, taking a drink. "I never woulda picked ya for Carol," he said slowly and bit down a smirk as Daryl looked at him in surprise at the absence of anything more spirited. "She's such a little suzy homemaker – woulda t'ought t'at feisty bitch Andrea was more ya style. Ya like bein' tha knight in shining armour?"

"There's more ta Carol than ya imagine," grunted Daryl, taking back the canteen. "Women ya know, they have _fuckin _layers," he added in grumbling tones before tipping the canteen back to his mouth.

"Amen ta tha' brot'er," breathed Merle.

Daryl choked on his water and Merle gave him a slap on the back, ignoring the incredulous look that was sent his way.

There was silence for a while after Daryl recovered – Merle knew what was coming.

"What 'bout ya and tha foreigner?" asked Daryl finally. Merle saw him glance at him.

_I love the woman – but don't know whether she loves me. Can't really believe that she would – but hope that she does_. "We sort o' fell in wit' each ot'er – kept travellin' toget'er," he shrugged casually.

"She's put up wit' yer shit longer 'an most," noted Daryl, obviously not believing it.

Merle snorted, then gave him a sidelong glance, waiting until Daryl had opened his mouth against the opening of the canteen. "Prob'bly why I married her."

A flock of birds burst into the air – disturbed by the noise that suddenly erupted in the silence.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Marion woke to the morning call of the hungry baby, which although quietened shortly afterwards did the damage and she rolled over – wide awake. _And alone – again. So much for her theory of waking up in his arms and ... _The shrunken warmth at her back thump thumped his tail and she put her hand down to him. She sighed a little and stretched – biting her tongue as the pain erupted along her spine. "Fuck," she whispered. That fancy trick shot, upside down and between her legs, had seemed a good idea at the time, but it hadn't done her whiplash any good. She probed at her shoulder and grimaced as she felt that the bruising had come closer to the surface. "Not a word," she cautioned Dog and received another thump thump in response.

"Mornin'," Carol paused her humming to offer her a smile.

"Got out of the right side of the bed this morning did we?" teased Marion as she started to assist with breakfast out of habit.

Carol ducked her head a little, a slight blush creeping up her features, but then looked up with a smile. "At least I stayed in my bed – I wondered where you'd gone this morning."

Marion gave her a crooked smile. "It was all the noise in the tent" she quipped.

Carol blushed red and Marion sighed in relief even as her brows flew up _Daryl apparently hadn't felt like going back to sleep. _Carol was made of sterner stuff than she anticipated though. "At least the camp was quiet this morning," she said with a cheeky smile that Marion knew referred to the absence of Merle snoring. "You looked comfortable."

_Crap_ Marion thought, realising that both Carol and Daryl must have seen them curled up together and feeling a little embarrassed. "Is habit really," she shrugged. "Body heat was pretty precious in winter. Now – well," she smiled slightly. "I just sleep better with him close." _Apparently._

Carol smiled in understanding and the two continued working in companionable silence for a couple of minutes, then Carol poured out a mug of coffee and held it out to her. For a moment Marion was confused, knowing that Carol knew she didn't drink it, then she noticed that Rick had existed from his tent and was rubbing his eyes. She walked it over to him "Good morning oh fearless leader," she grinned at him.

Rick's face seemed to indicate that she had no right to be so cheerful at this early in the morning (_he should try having a Dixon as a bedmate_ she thought sourly) but he smiled at her. "Thankyou Marion," he said solemnly. One pointed conversation about the facts that he was not a checkout dick and she was not over 60 being enough to discourage him from calling her ma'am very quickly and they had developed an easy understanding.

"Daryl and Merle are out hunting, Theodore and Michonne have watch, so far it's only me and Carol up," she reported as he took a sip. "So what's the plan today?" she asked, offering a shrug. "Since I missed the planning session yesterday."

"I'm going to send Maggie and Glen out on a run," he explained. "We're low on food and," he forestalled her words. "I don't want to take everything you've accumulated. You've been very generous so far and we're grateful, but we still have to take every opportunity to get what we can."

Marion nodded. It was cold hard sense.

"T wants to have a look at the vehicles – the truck in particular is starting to run roughly and there's a warning light coming up sporadically in Glen's car."

"Merle could help with that," she said. She received a look of doubt and her brows lifted imperiously. "He's good with machines," she said flatly. There was a slight pause and Rick nodded. Her voice lightened. "Anything for me to do?"

"Rest," he said flatly, holding up one hand. "I know, I know you feel good. But you've been sick, then you got hit in the head and had concussion – you didn't really take it easy yesterday. We've got some security here – use it to get yourself back to full strength."

Maggie and Glen headed off mid morning, having sketched out on a map where they intended to go and scheduling a time that they would come back – success or not. Michonne sat down to clean her sword and Andrea sat next to her with the camp's guns (except Merle's) at her feet. Carol, after washing dishes and putting everything away in case of a quick getaway, found some mending and sat in the sun looking a picture of domesticated, albeit heavily armed, contentment. Herschel lowered himself into a chair next to her, a book in his hand, although Marion knew from experience that he would soon be snoozing. Lori took some clothes into the amenities block to wash and T-Dog and Rick buried themselves in the vehicles. Marion found herself at a slight loss – her sword was clean, her bow had been maintained to within an inch of its life, she had enough bolts, and her washing was up to date. So she wandered, Dog sniffing and bouncing at the grasshoppers – following the old gravel paths that had used to lead between the rows of caravans, noting the slabs of concrete where people used to live and holiday. She wasn't really paying much attention and it was only Dog's bark that stopped her from walking straight into the swimming pool. Her brows rose – realising after some careful examination that what she had thought to be a bush was actually a water slide overgrown with a creeper.

No-one worried about her moving the truck, but Carl and Beth came over the instant that she kicked the generator over, having learnt enough from Merle to disconnect the old power cord from the pool filter and hook it up to the generator. She decided that the experiment was worth the price of a full tank of fuel but wrinkled her nose at the sight of the amount of debris floating on top and within the water. She led the kids in a stomp, which she explained to Carl was to encourage the 'Joe Blakes' to move off, through the overgrown grass and found the pool net. Carl happily started wielding it through the water and she and Beth started to drag the vine off the slide.

The sun wasn't quite at its height, but they were all a lather of sweat when Carol brought some sandwiches over, exclaiming at the water which though not crystal still looked tantalising. Carl was restrained long enough to have something to eat and for about five minutes afterwards – then he stripped off his shirt and bombed in, splashing the three females in close vicinity with delight.

"Come on Beth," he called. "Get in!"

"I don't have any swimmers," protested Beth.

"So," Carl shrugged. "Your underwear is just like a bikini anyway" he said reassuringly.

_Ah-ah _Marion and Carol exchanged a wordless look, understanding each other perfectly, even as Beth hesitated. Carl may be several years younger than Beth but it was obvious even to Marion that the boy had a typical teenage crush on Beth, which was harmless of course, but there was no need to make it worse given the closeness of the group. "I might have something," said Marion cautiously, considering Beth's slender figure critically.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle's eyes started searching immediately they came into camp, acknowledging T-Dog's presence at the gate with a nod only. Daryl was more forthcoming and responded to the other man's comment about the number of animals that they carried on their belts and in their hands with a promise to bring a big buck. "Seen Marion?" Merle queried Lori even as he threw his catch down on the table.

"In the showers," she replied absently, focused on the fresh meat as she was working out in her head the options for dinner. Daryl's load dropped on the table as well and he looked around. "At the pool," said Lori and both the men looked at her sharply.

"Pool?" repeated Daryl blankly.

Lori looked up and smiled. "And a slide. Marion found it – she and the kids have been cleaning it up." There was a 'yahoo' in the distance and her face relaxed, glancing over to where her son was sliding into the water. Carol could be seen sitting on the edge next to Herschel, Andrea splashing in the shallow end and Michonne sculling slowly through the water. "Carl likes it anyway."

Daryl snorted and turned, walking in that direction with Lori half a step behind him. Merle headed towards the showers; _he was going to talk to this woman today_. He could hear Marion's voice as he got closer and he shook his head. _Woman had to stop talking out loud to Dog like that_.

He rounded the corner and for a moment he froze. _As if there was any doubt – ya definitely going to tha ninth level of hell now _(1) drawled in his head and he spun around before either Marion or the half naked Beth could turn around and abuse him.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle sniffed suspiciously at his arm _fuckin' Officer Friendly and his grand plans_. He had regarded Rick suspiciously when he had approached, but the question had been a simple one 'would he tow one of the trailers if they could clean them up and make them moveable?' He could understand the theory – secure shelter with cooking facilities and even basic toilet facilities. While his initial reaction was to say no, he swallowed it as Daryl came and stood next to him _he wouldn't be letting Marion drive the truck though, no matter how many horse floats she'd towed. _So he had agreed and ducked his head as Marion and a swimmer clad Beth had walked past him to the pool.

The stench inside the two of the four that had been pronounced as moveable had been almost unimaginable; breathing through the nose or the mouth just didn't make a difference. It wasn't until Carol brought a couple of rags soaked in eucalyptus oil that they got any relief – but even after a shower in which he was sure that he had rubbed off two layers of skin he could still smell the odour of death on him.

Daryl walked next to him quietly, shaking his shaggy hair like a dog to try and dry it the best he could. Merle had just of course wiped his hand over the top of his head and the water had flown off the stubble. He had taken the opportunity to run his blade over his face, slicing off the growing stubble and leaving his skin smooth. _Marion liked him clean shaven_ he had thought and avoided his brother's eyes.

The rest of the group were at the pool, T-Dog's ebony skin shining as he balanced off the edge of the slide before jumping up, wrapping his arms around one leg and leaving the other one out for maximum effect. There were screams from Carl, Beth and Andrea as the water cascaded over the top of the wall – catching Carol and Herschel unawares on the edge and swamping Michonne who was floating down one end.

Merle followed Daryl up to the group, seeing Carol turn her head with a smile even as she bounced a grizzling baby. Marion walked over and took the baby from her and Merle stopped. _Well fuck_ he thought and turned back around again.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"He's made it pretty clear Carol. We were just travelling companions," said Marion, cutting up the carrots almost savagely _his bit of tail_. "He just doesn't want me anymore," said Marion, cutting up the carrots almost savagely. _He's got his brother._

"You could talk to him," suggested Carol.

"I've been trying all bloody day," Marion slammed the carrot down. "He's been avoiding me all day. First he goes hunting at sparrowfart," _with his brother_, "then as I walk back to the pool he avoids me to go cleaning those caravans" _with his brother_ "and then he literally turned and walked away from me at the pool this afternoon. And lo and behold then he goes hunting _again_." _With his brother_.

"Wait until tonight," suggested Carol. "When you're in bed."

Marion sighed. "Is it really too much to ask though Carol?" she asked. "For him to come up and talk to me?"

"Dixon men aren't very good at expressing their feelings Marion," soothed Carol, peeling the onions with a lot more care.

"Daryl doesn't seem to have a problem," retorted Marion almost bitterly.

"But he did," asserted Carol earnestly. "It took him a long time, some scares, to even admit that he cared – for any of us. I think Judith was the only one he has never watched himself around, even now."

"I've been with Merle for more than six months," said Marion grimly. "We've been together, 24/7 for most of it, fighting together, sleeping together. But now,"_ he's back with his brother "_it's like I don't exist anymore."

"Do you know anything of their childhood?" queried Carol, blinking at the welling tears that were only in part because of the onions.

"I've seen the scars," Marion nodded.

"Well can you imagine?" Carol's voice trembled a little. "Those poor little boys. Admitting that they might care for someone – that they love someone," she shook her head. "Only a Dixon can love a Dixon," she mimicked Daryl's drawl.

Marion snorted, picking up another carrot. "I thought it was only a Dixon could kill a Dixon?" she said wryly.

"There're a couple of variations," chuckled Carol. "Only a Dixon can track a Dixon. Only a Dixon can outdrink a Dixon," she listed.

Dog's tail thumped once and Marion looked up, spotting the two Dixons returning to camp. Uninvited a song popped into her head and she giggled. Carol looked over at her with a slight frown and Marion lifted her chin. Carol followed her gaze to where the Dixon brothers were striding into the camp, dripping with sweat, covered with dirt and blood, a deer over each of their shoulders, walking with an inner assurance, soft footed – both with an almost palpable 'don't fuck with me' attitude. Carol looked back to her still with a slight frown of puzzlement on her face.

Marion started to sing softly

So bad  
I'm so good that I'm so bad  
Guarantee I'll be the greatest thing you ever had  
'Cause you ain't never met nobody like me  
And you ain't gonna wanna _fuck_ nobody else again (2)

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"What tha fuck they laughing 'bout?" wondered Daryl, looking over at the two women. Merle knew that he was pleased with their efforts at the lake this evening, having managed to bag two decent sized animals as the herd came in for a drink. But it meant a mountain of work for the pair of them, gutting, skinning and preparing the meat.

Merle looked over at the women; heaving up one animal over what, at one stage, had been a light post and holding the rope for Daryl to tie off. Carol dipped her head hurriedly, still laughing. He sighed. "Us ya dummy."

"What tha fuck for?" demanded Daryl indignantly, looking over himself and then at Merle, seemingly trying to find what might be funny about their appearance.

"Who tha fuck knows," shrugged Merle carelessly. "Somet'ing random woulda popped into 'er 'ead. Don't even try ta understand 'er brot'er," he advised. "T'at woman got more fuckin' layers t'an any onion."

"So ya goin' ta talk ta 'er or what?" demanded Daryl a couple of minutes later, slicing down the belly of one of the deer with his knife.

"Wha'?" snapped Merle, looking up from the carcass he was about to slice on.

"Fuck Merle – ya bin lookin' at her like Carl looks at Beth all fuckin' day," complained Daryl. "I mean it's cute 'n' all but yer meant ta be a grown man."

_Hell – the boy had grown a pair._

"T'is from tha king of domesticated bliss?" snarled Merle, stabbing the deer's belly with more force than necessary and feeling a sense of satisfaction as it bumped Daryl's carcass into him, plastering him with blood. "Ya git one girlfriend when tha world ends and ya t'ink ya an expert?"

"Ah ain't no fuckin' expert," groused Daryl. "Don't fuckin' know what ah'm doing 'alf tha time."

"T'en keep ya fuckin' mouth shut," muttered Merle.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"But you care for him don't you?" insisted Carol.

They had recovered from their fit of giggles and finished the vegetables and were now working on the hare carcasses that had been gutted and skinned earlier.

"Of course," replied Marion.

"Love him perhaps?" suggested Carol almost timidly as if she was worried that she was stepping over a line.

Marion sighed. "Yes."

"Then tell him," exclaimed Carol in excitement.

"Tell Merle that I love him?" snorted Marion. "And watch him run a hundred klicks? I'm not that stupid," she finished equivocally. There was sudden silence and Marion's stomach dropped. She looked over at Carol who had stilled and was looking at her hands. "Oh no," Marion breathed. "You didn't?"

Carol nodded glumly and Marion winced. "Sorry," she said. "What happened?"

"Oh he ran," confirmed Carol. "Maybe not physically, but emotionally. He withdrew and hardly talked to me for a couple of days. And when he did..." she took a breath, "it was to tell me that I couldn't love him. That he was a dirty, violent redneck who didn't deserve to be loved and that I needed to straighten out my head." She shrugged. "So I went along with it – I've never said anything again. He's never said anything since."

"Bloody Dixons," sighed Marion. "Can't live with them – can't live without them."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"She's never fuckin' by 'erself. She's either wit' ya woman, wit' Beth," he shuddered slightly. "Or she's got hold o' tha baby."

"She'll be alone in yer bed t'night," shrugged Daryl. "Talk ta 'er then."

Merle snorted. "T'at where ya solve all ya problems Darylina?"

"Yer never by yerself in a group like this," shrugged Daryl, his eyes glinting. "Why ya t'ink Glen and Maggie are always goin' on supply runs? They was gone all day today – for what? A handbasket full o' tins." He looked directly at his brother. "Ya want ta git 'er alone – ya got ta make it happen. Or," he shrugged again, "git over her."

Merle blinked _Darylina giving him advice?_ _Fuck world must have ended. _He looked over at where Marion was helping Carol with dinner, both of them in intense conversation. _Fuck it_.

He slammed the knife into the carcass, striding past his slightly smirking brother, between the talking T-Dog, Andrea, Glen and Maggie, and straight past where Rick and Lori were trying to convince Judith to try the tinned pears, over Carl and Beth playing the Monopoly game that Marion had apparently dug out for them and past a silent but observant Herschel.

Carol looked up from the log with a startled look; Marion straightened from where she was bent over the pot.

"Mer..." she started with a slight frown.

Merle reached forward, wrapping his arm around her waist and dragged her close to him. He twisted his hand into the wispy lengths of hair at the nape of her neck and slammed his lips into hers. It was a hard kiss, almost brutal, and he all but drove his tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweetness. His body exploded into awareness and he dragged himself away abruptly, staring into her wide brown eyes.

Her eyes flicked over his shoulder and he turned. The pears were dripping off the spoon as Rick held it suspended half way to Judith's mouth, the sherriff's look of disbelief mirrored by the majority of the camp; Lori was trying to suppress a smile; Carl and Beth were giggling; Daryl was smirking; only Herschel and Michonne were unmoved. Carol giggled and his gaze snapped to her. "What? Ya ain't got better things to do than watch a man kiss his woman?" he demanded.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) Another Delta 9 reference from Whiskey and Cakesters

(2) Eminem. Uninvited while doing the ironing actually.


	76. Chapter 76

Fair warning – we get a _little_ naughty in this one.

Chapter 76

"Your woman?" Marion hissed and he turned back to her, slightly startled by the sparks exploding in her eyes. "_Now _you decide I'm _your _woman? You _bastard_." She turned and strode away from the fire.

Merle blinked _what the fuck had just happened?_

"Merle," he looked down to Carol who _fuck her_ was all but laughing at him. "Go after her. _Talk_ to her."

He nodded once and made after Marion, Dog bouncing at his heels apparently confused about the whole tone of the event. _She was pissed_ he could see, admiring the way her hips swayed as she kept on going away from the others. "Marion," he called after her. "Damn it woman – stop 'n' talk ta me."

"_Now _you want to talk?" she snapped back at him, turning and thrusting both hands against his chest. She put her whole force into the movement and coupled with sheer surprise it made him stumble backwards a little. She followed him up and shoved again. "Damn you Merle!"

"Hey!" he was ready by the third shove and she rocked back under her own momentum. "I'm sorry ok – I fucked up I know." She paused, her chest heaving. "When I saw Rick – it all just came back and I lost it."

_Something was wrong – her face..._

"You fucking arsehole Merle," she said deliberately, icily and went to walk past him.

"Hey!" he reached out and wrapped his hand around her elbow, almost pulling her off her feet. "What tha fuck?"

"You think I give a rat's arse about your little berserker episode?!" she demanded, all trace of ice gone as she all but screamed at him, albeit not at a high volume – habits formed from necessity were hard to break. She yanked her arm out of his grasp. "You don't think I can figure out what happened there?"

"So why'd you yell at me?" he demanded.

"Because _hello_," she snipped. "You had a gun pointed at a man's head – your brother had his crossbow pointed at you and a woman had just tried to take my head off with a sword." He blinked. "I was pissed off."

"So yell at me some more – hit me some more," he snapped back at her. "Just stop givin' me tha fuckin' cold shoulder."

"Cold shoulder?" her voice lifted into incredulity. "_Me_ giving _you_ the cold shoulder?"

"Ya bin fuckin' ignoring me since we found 'em," he snapped.

"You keep running away from me anytime I try and speak to you!" she snapped back.

"I've been trying all day ta speak to ya," he howled.

"Bull_shit_," she refuted. "I _slept_ with you last night Merle – you didn't even say goodbye, you _could _have talked to me when you got back from hunting, you _could _have talked to me after you finished those caravans. _I _didn't go anywhere all day."

"I _told_ you I was going hunting, I _did _try and talk to you when I got back," he retorted angrily.

"When?" she interrogated, her chin lifting at him.

He faltered, he didn't really want to admit that he'd seen more of young Beth than he had ever wanted to but as her eyes narrowed dangerously he recovered. "At tha' pool – I walked straight ta ya – ya saw me 'n' picked tha baby up ta avoid me!"

Marion blinked. She had picked Judith up because having been unceremoniously shoved at Carol by Lori, who had noticed Rick heading to the showers alone, had upset her and Carol hadn't been able to settle her for some reason. "I didn't see you," she explained, "not until you were walking away anyway."

He stared at her. "Ya haven't been avoiding me?"

"No you redneck twit," she said with a slight smile.

"T'en why won't ya sleep wit' me?" he demanded.

"Because you kicked me out!" she exclaimed.

"Ya went off wit' Carol," he snapped.

"Because you were sleeping with Daryl!"

"Because ya kicked 'im out o' 'is tent!"

Marion stared at him. "He told Carol that he would be sleeping with you," she said slowly. "I assumed..." _ass-u-me_ she thought as her stomach dropped. "Oh Merle," Marion sighed.

"You didn't kick him out?" Merle said in dawning understanding as she slowly shook her head. _Fuck – he'd seen through Daryl about Carol, why the hell hadn't he seen what he was doing earlier?_ "It was him," he hissed. _He was going to kick his scrawny fuckin' little ass to the kerb._

"Why didn't you say something?" she demanded.

"Because you were pissed at me," he retorted indignantly.

"Er _yes_," she mocked him a little. "And I can guarantee you it will happen again – that's what people in relationships do you know. Occasionally they _argue_ and then they _talk_ about it and then if they're lucky, they make up!"

"Hell sugar – ya know I don't know how ta do t'is shit," he sighed. He had never been with a woman for very long; most of them were so iced or drunk that they hardly knew they were having sex let alone caring where they woke up or who they woke up with. "Ya 'ave ta lead me t'rough it."

They stared at each other for a few moments – and then it suddenly dawned on them that they were not fighting anymore. That really they never had been.

They each took a step forward and all but slammed into each other, their lips meeting in a greedy contest to taste each other, his stump wrapping around her buttocks and lifting her hard into his chest even as his hand found a soft rounded breast; her hand twisting at the back of his neck and the other tracing over his back.

"They made up!" exclaimed Carl's voice in the distance, his voice carrying perfectly through the dusk air and followed by a hissed 'sshh' that could have only come from his mother.

Marion broke off with a giggle and Merle ducked his head into her neck. "I'm going ta strangle tha kid," he growled. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes – slowly, deliberately he placed his lips over hers and kissed her gently, moving his lips over hers softly, feathering his tongue against hers. He pulled away, seeing his lust reflected in her eyes but knowing that they had neither the place nor the time. "Come on sugar," he whispered and walked back to the camp with his arm around her waist.

The camp was silent, except for Carl and Beth who were whispering and giggling together, as they returned. Everyone was being careful not to look at them although Marion was distinctly conscious of glances being sent their way. Merle gave her a squeeze on the waist and returned to his task of dressing the deer carcass supremely unconcerned with any hints of attention; she returned to cooking the dinner with Carol. The woman gave her a smile, Marion smiled back, Carol giggled, Marion giggled and then they both lost it – laughing out loud.

"So you and Merle hey?" asked Lori as they recovered, sitting down and bouncing Judith lightly on her shoulder with a mischievous smile on her face.

Both Marion and Carol lost it again.

"Wha' tha fuck is wrong with them?" growled Daryl, turning around briefly with a half frown, half smirk on his face.

Merle shrugged, glancing up from his work, a half smirk forming on his face as he saw Marion's face lit up with laughter. "Don't try and understand 'em brother – just live wit' 'em."

Daryl snorted and relapsed into silence.

Dinner was served as per the normal routine – waiting a little later to let the two Dixons have showers to get the rid of the majority of the blood and gore that was plastered over their skin and clothes. Merle accepted the plate off Carol with a nod, pausing half a step as he noticed that the pieces on his plate were small and looked suspiciously at the woman. She gave him a smile and turned away to hand Daryl his plate and Merle shrugged, walking to one of the benches that had been gathered from around the park and placed around the fire. Carl bounced over with his own dinner and sat next to him, Beth sat next to him and then Herschel sat next to her. Merle twitched a little at finding his space so suddenly invaded, but then Dog thumped thumped his tail in expectation at his feet and Marion sat down.

"Ah-ah!" she chided as he picked up a piece of meat off his place. Merle paused and Dog's ears went down. "I have some of the uncooked bones for him."

Merle wrinkled his nose. "Be better if I give 'im tha plate."

Marion smacked him lightly on the arm. "Hey! Carol and I put some effort into this you know – show some appreciation."

"I am sugar," he returned with meaning and got another slap on his arm, although this one was accompanied by a grin. "But last time Dog 'ad raw 'are meat almost turned us off it for a mont'."

Marion choked on her mouthful and gave him a reproachful glance after a few coughs. But she dropped a couple of bits to the ground for Dog to share.

Dessert was some of the canned peaches, pears and tropical fruit that Maggie and Glen had discovered, then Herschel and Beth took over the duties of cleaning up. Carol worried a little in the periphery to make sure everyone was placed where it was needed, but Marion accepted the gift and leant back against the bench, grimacing slightly.

"I'm gonna walk tha fence," Merle's words startled her a little and she opened her eyes. "Ya wanna come wit' me?"

Marion smiled and put up her hand, he grabbed it and pulled her up to her feet with little effort, his hand wrapping around her backside as she overbalanced a little and pressed against his chest. He felt the heat run through his blood just looking down at her, feeling her curves soft against him. She picked up her bow and sword, gritting her teeth slightly against the twinge that ran down her spine as she strapped the latter to her back; and with Dog dancing around her feet walked with him outside the glow of the fire.

The moon was a sliver in the night air and offered little light, but there was a blanket of stars and after pausing for a minute or so out of the direct light of the fire they were able to make out more than the shapes of the looming trailers and started walking. For the most they walked in silence, their weapons held in their hands and almost casually bumping against each other while watching the fence and trying to avoid the occasional water pipe or electrical connection. Merle heard her hiss after one such bump and lifted his stump up and around her neck, dragging her close and in step with him.

Marion smiled as he brought her against him, fitting comfortably under his shoulder and smelling a strong odour of lemongrass _that had to be the last bar_ as she breathed the curious mix of the soap and Merle. She braced her right hand more carefully in the bow and threaded her left arm around his waist, tucking her hand into his pocket. She felt him turn his head and kiss her on the top of the head and smiled again, twisting her head up to him. He bent down and his lips touched hers – gently, slowly. They came to a pause, their bodies turning by rote as their lips moved over each others. Merle dropped his stump down to the middle of her back, just under the scabbard and his other hand, still clasping the handgun clasped her backside and pulled it slightly up into him. Marion's hand moved out of his pocket and found the hem of his back, sliding her nails up his spine until the rifle slung over his shoulders got in the way.

Merle felt the heat build in his blood; his body was reacting to the taste of her, the way her tongue was teasing with his, the way her curves felt against his chest, in his hand and against his groin. He groaned and he pushed his mouth harder, angling slightly to get more access to her mouth.

Marion's felt the simmering in her belly awaken to boiling as he demanded more from her. She pushed up slightly on her tiptoes to give it to him, moving her hand around slightly to find the small male nipple and rubbed her fingernail across it. She smiled in satisfaction as a groan broke from Merle and his grip on her behind tightened and then moved down to one thigh, insistently pulling at it. She bent slightly sideways to let the crossbow touch the ground and then gently pushed it so that it fell onto the ground, then traced both arms around his shoulders and lifted her leg to his hips. Merle's handgun hit the ground with a clang and his stump moved to support her other side as he hefted her into the air – her thighs clamped around him, pushing her warm centre directly against the hardness that was pushing against his jeans.

The fire exploded within Merle and he groaned, opening his eyes to look for anything to brace her against so he could free his hand. Her legs tightened and she lifted herself up a little higher – he was distracted by the bust in his face and he lowered his mouth, using his teeth through her shirt around one of the peaks that was just begging to be nibbled. Her gasp almost broke him and he felt his body twitch, he braced his stump and moved his hand, tracking along her side and then over her belly to lower a thumb along the seam of her shorts until he found her most sensitive part. Her noise was more like a moan this time and he gave up any pretence that he was going to be able to get any further than the ground and removed his hand from around her bottom. She stared at him, her chest heaving and let her legs go, sliding down him in a way that made him tremble. He unslung the rifle from his shoulder and she reached behind her to do the same with the scabbard.

Dog growled and he whirled towards the fence. He heard Marion reach out for the bow, stepping forward to stand with him as they stared at the fence. "Come on ya fuckers," growled Merle, glancing once at Dog and seeing the hackles still up. There was a slight growl in response on the other side of the fence and he stepped closer, leaning in to stare through the chain wire out at the darkness. A geek suddenly materialised, its hands reaching out for him, a large chuck of its neck missing where flesh, tendons and muscles had been torn out. He stepped back and the fence rocked with the impact of the geek. "Pussy," he growled and unsheathed his knife, slamming it into the eye socket.

There was a whoosh and an arrow whizzed past his ear, through the fence and into the eye socket of another geek. A third stumbled over the body and slammed into the fence – Merle had to bend over to bury the knife into the top of its skull. He cursed as the blade stuck and felt the air move near his hand as a fourth geek threw itself at the fence. There was a flash of silver as Marion came in behind him and slammed her dragon knife into its head. She stepped back hurriedly, lifting her bow again at the ready.

"Anyone else?"he called into the dark. "Where are ya, ya fuckers?"

There was silence and he looked down at Dog, whose hackles had subsided although his nose was still twitching. He lifted his foot to brace the head, awkwardly through the fence, and dragged his knife out. He wiped it casually against his pants and sheathed it before reaching to drag out Marion's s knife, giving it the same treatment.

"They're not going away," muttered Marion wincing slightly as she saw another pair of pants requiring sterilisation and considering whether she could reach the bolt through the fence or if Merle boosted her over the fence whether she could get back herself. She discarded both options, deciding that the bolt would still be there in the morning when she could fetch it in daylight.

"Big group like t'is?" snorted Merle. "Like t'rowin' chum inta tha water – t'ey'll come for miles."

Marion sighed. "It would be nice to not just have to worry – just for a little while."

Merle turned to her, swapping her knife for the handgun that she offered him and slinging the rifle back over his shoulder. "Ain't goin' ta 'appen sugar – not until all tha dead 'ave been killed ag'in." He looked regretfully at her. "Come on – we better finish tha walk and t'en tell Rick wha' we found."

"Hopefully not all we found," she muttered under her breath and was dragged against him for a hot and hard kiss. She giggled and snuggled against him as they walked around the remainder of the perimeter.

Both Rick and Daryl looked puzzled when Merle announced that they'd cleared three glitches in their perimeter walk, but once the concept of a group of geeks had been clarified by an amused Marion while Merle fumed at their lack of understanding things happened quickly. Daryl grabbed his crossbow, and both Glen and T-Dog grabbed their large machetes. Marion didn't bother arguing with Merle when he told her to stay, she knew that out in the open and dark that she would be a liability, but she did insist that he take Dog. There were several strange looks passed amongst the rest of them and even more so when Merle nodded, knowing that the animal was quiet – except when he needed to send a warning and could see, hear and smell better than any of them. Daryl and Merle took the lead out into the dark, Glen, T-Dog and Rick following them; Andrea and Michonne stationed near the gates to keep it clear and man it in case of a strategic retreat while Carl paced around the remainder of them with his gun out until his mother told him in no uncertain words to put it away.

The entire group stayed on high alert, Lori going as far as moving the essential baby items to the car saying that it wouldn't take much to move them back but that she couldn't cope without them. Marion didn't see that there would be anything that would make them evacuate the camp in the night, but she knew that they had been hit hard by a big glitch at Herschel's farm and it kept Lori and Carol, who went to help, occupied so she didn't protest. She kept herself occupied by formalising her move to the open tarp, moving her bedroll next to Merle's and fixing the blankets into a proper bed, her side piled higher than Merle's but packing one blanket away as she knew that Merle would more than compensate for its warmth.

Dog bounced back in and Marion smiled but it wasn't until the remainder of the group arrived almost a minute later and Rick reported "Nothing," that there was a noticeable release of tension in the rest of the group.

Merle walked back to his tarp, smiling as he noticed that everything was back in its place. He wasn't as comfortable with the absence of geeks as Rick was but Dog hadn't made any sign that there were any and without a definite benefit of cleaning up geeks the risk of being out in the dark had been too great. "I'm first watch," he said as Marion came over to him.

Marion nodded. "You need Dog?"

"Nah – I'm stayin' inside tha fence." He looked down at her for a moment. She didn't look quite right. "Ya ok?"

Marion nodded again. "See you when you get back," leaning up on tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss on the lips.

It was pitch black when he did crawl under the blankets, quietly placing his blades and gun above the top of the pillow. Dog thumped thumped his tail in welcome but Merle still had to use his feet to bodily lift him from his position against the back of Marion's knees and he offered a low growl in protest. Marion roused slightly and shivered as her warm cocoon was lost with his entry, then jumped as his cold skin hit against hers.

"Crikey Merle," she complained. "Put a bloody jacket on would you?"

"It ain't cold," he replied, tucking his stump under his head and wrapping his hand across her waist.

"Not in Fahrenheit maybe," she snorted, flinching a little as his arm landed on the skin of her belly. "I operate on a different temperature scale remember."

He snorted. "Ya a fuckin' ice cube sugar."

She shivered a little again, but then her skin adjusted and she was still against him. He listened to her breathing for a few moments, enjoying the feel of her against him. His internal temperature started to rise – and it had nothing to do with the number of blankets or Dog pressed against the back of his knees. He moved his hand a little, tracing her skin at the base of her belly, around her belly button and back again. Her heard her sigh at the caress and moved his hand her side, tracing down over her hip down as far as he could reach and then back up again, past her belly to where the curve of her breast swelled out. He took his hand back down again, feeling her breath hitch just a little, and slid underneath her singlet pyjama top and worked his way up to her breast, using his thumb to rasp against the bottom swelling.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly.

"Wha' does it feel like sugar?" he said huskily, moving his hand up to surround one of her breasts and feeling the skin tense. He leaned forward, taking the lobe of her ear in between his teeth and gently tugging at it.

"Someone might see," she protested, her brain taking precedence over the awakening of her body at the impact of his hand's touch, his teeth and the hardening against her rear end.

"It's only Daryl," he murmured persuasively, "it ain't as if he hasn't..." he stopped abruptly.

_Oh fuck_.

Marion rolled over, her eyes saucer round as she glared at him and shoved him in the chest. He rolled onto his back, Dog growling lightly again in protest, and she propped up above him. "Merle Dixon," she started in a strident whisper. "You had better not, for one second, be considering my moral compass to be even remotely similar to any of those other _females_ that you previously associated with."

Merle sighed _fuck but she was hot when she spoke like that_. "Hell no sugar," he said hastily. "It's just – hell woman I missed you."

Her face softened. "I missed you too Merle." She bit back her response to smile as his eyes lit up, the fire began to burn in his eyes and he moved his stump into the middle of her back. "However I refuse to show you exactly how much I missed you with your brother potentially watching and," she continued with one finger in the air as Merle opened his mouth to speak, "anyone else who may just happen to wander out of their tent."

Merle heaved a sigh; _he had to fall for a prude_. He shuffled a little to get himself settled and Dog snorted and jumped over to lay behind Marion. She reached down and gave him a pat and then snuggled down, her head on Merle's shoulder with her forehead pressed against his neck. He craned his neck to kiss her head and then turned his head slightly. His stump wrapped around her back and his hand reached for hers where it lay on his belly.

_Not quite the three words she'd been after _she thought to herself, listening to his heart beating. She knew that she couldn't stay in the same position all night – his arm would go to sleep and she would end up with a crick in her neck but she was comfortable for the moment. It was a big step for him to make even that admission – it had almost been easy for him, but she knew that while it was a loaded statement it was still in essence a physical need that he referred to. _Baby steps, he needed baby steps._

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Truly – the odour that emanates from a dog that has eaten cooked rabbit is only surpassed in horridness by a dog that has eaten raw rabbit. Neither my father nor I will ever forget that day (more than a decade ago) that we were exposed to a 4 hour drive home with such an emanating red heeler.


	77. Chapter 77

Now this chapter is a pure guilty indulgence chapter – pretty much no plot/character development at all. Maybe just a little Darion if you squint. Fluff and a little bit of implied smut – it's safe for my little girls to keep on reading. You big girls and boys will just have to use your imagination!

Chapter 77

Merle winced as the zipper caught, easing his fingers a bit more securely either side of it and then pulling again. The extra pressure helped and the zipper slid up almost noiselessly. He only had one chance of this he knew – if he wasn't silent enough he was going to get an arrow in the nuts (at least) and never ever would Daryl sleep in later than him. It _was_ only just after dawn of course and Daryl had had the watch after him – he had probably only had a couple of hours sleep and since they had brought back two deer the night before he wouldn't have planned to go hunting. Dog had woken Merle up through, his ear pricked and looking to the far side of the trailer park, growling occasionally. Merle had disentangled himself from Marion, giving her the kiss on the temple that roused her sufficiently to take in his whispered statement that he was ''eading ta tha 'ead' before curling herself up in the blankets again.

Glen had turned as Merle had walked up to him, the semi automatic over his shoulder and Maggie further away along the fenceline. "T'ere's geeks about," Merle had told him grimly watching the man's eyes widen and turn around in a 360 looking for the evidence. "I'll get Daryl – we'll take 'em out."

The zipper reached the top of the tent flap and he reached forward carefully to drag the flap back, ducking his head in.

He had about three seconds to take it in – the way his brother was pressed against Carol, her forehead under his chin, one arm draped over her chest, his other tucked around her head, both of hers disappearing between the small gap between their bodies. Then the blue eyes snapped open and the upper hand was reaching for the bow – it paused suddenly as Daryl realised who it was.

"T'ere's geeks comin' ta tha fence," Merle told him, not even bothering to hide the smirk as he looked at him. "Ya comin'? Or are ya too busy?"

Daryl gave him a baleful look and rolled over, grimacing a little as he extricated his arm from around the still sleeping Carol.

"Since when did ya start wearin'clothes ta bed?" queried Merle as Daryl stood, clad in only a pair of boxers, the scars that littered his torso and legs standing out from the tanned arms and naturally olive skin. He glanced at the lump under the blankets, only one arm and the back of her neck were visible – no clothing was apparent on each and his smirk grew.

"Since pricks started comin' inta mah tent uninvited," growled Daryl, pulling a shirt over his head.

"Nice panties," persisted Merle, eyeing off the gold and bold writing that proclaimed "Sex God".

Daryl flushed slightly, pulling his pants over his hips and shoving his feet into his boots as he pulled the zip up and roughly yanked the belt closed. "Beggas can't be choosers – ya gotta take wha' fits ya." He reached over and picked up the bow. "Where are they?"

Merle nodded in satisfaction as Daryl became businesslike and stepped out so he could follow. He pointed over at the far side. "T'ere somewhere."

"How tha fuck do ya know that?" demanded Daryl, staring at the empty fence.

"Dog," said Merle simply, without thinking.

Daryl stopped suddenly and Merle made it three paces before he turned. "Ya fuckin' with me?" demanded Daryl.

"Don't doubt him Daryl," said Merle sincerely. "I did once – won't ever again."

Daryl's eyes showed clearly the doubt that he felt about trusting what he obviously considered to be a contemptuous piece of fluff with anything like this, but when his narrowed eyes failed to find any hint of teasing in Merle's eyes he nodded once and they walked over towards the fence, Dog trotting ahead of them with ears pricked and tail fluffed up.

Marion awoke, felt the absence of any body warmth and sat up in sudden panic. Her back seized and she bit back a cry of pain, dropping back to the ground. More carefully she turned her head, noting that Glen was on guard – which meant Maggie was somewhere too – and while tense, looked relatively calm. She turned her head and then tipped it to try and see behind her. There was no sign of Dog or Merle, but she saw Carol exit the tent with a slightly puzzled frown. "You know where they are?" called Marion softly.

Carol looked up and shook her head, turning around.

"Over at the fence," said Glen. He shrugged, "Merle thought he'd seen some walkers," he explained. "I didn't see anything though."

_Well that explained Dog's absence_ realised Marion and relaxed a little. She lifted her hands up over her head and stretched, grimacing at the pain which erupted and only marginally improved as she held the stretch for as long as she could. She could hear Carol pottering around the fire, it being a little bit too early to actually start breakfast since they had missed the Dixons and T-Dog was still rolled up inside his tent. She listened to Carol pottering for a little longer, then finally her guilt became too much for her to put up with. "Fuck it," she complained and rolled out of the bed, being careful not to stretch too much. She made her way carefully towards the amenities, pausing as she all but crashed into Herschel, carefully manoeuvring himself on his crutches.

"Good morning Marion," he smiled at her, then his eyes focused on the bruise that was visible above the singlet top that she wore to bed. "You are injured."

"Morning," she smiled. "Seatbelt," she explained. "Um – I'd rather that you didn't say anything to Merle."

His face relaxed into amusement. "Consider it our secret my dear."

She nodded and stepped around him, then paused. "Herschel?" he stopped and turned around. "Do you know much about human anatomy? I mean – I know you were a vet before all this, but you've had some practice with people since then?"

Herschel almost snorted. "Just a little. Is something wrong?"

She hesitated. "Give me a minute?"

The old man nodded, waiting outside and then, alternating between his crutches and foot, he moved inside as she called out to him to come in. She had dressed with the exception of her shirt, which she had wrapped sideways around her bust, hiding all but the wide band of purple starting at her shoulder. "It's my back," she explained. "Whiplash to start with I think, but then I think I stuffed it further during the contest."

"If you had a sore back then you were foolish to attempt it," pronounced Herschel, leaning on his crutches and manoeuvring his hands up and down her spine. She hissed and fought to keep herself still against his probing fingers. "Your muscles have knotted badly – you must be in pain."

"A little," she admitted.

Herschel didn't reply; she could almost hear him waiting.

"Ok – a lot," she admitted. "But it's not all the time – just if I twist or bend too much."

Herschel pushed a bit harder into the knot and she hissed, bracing herself against the wall. Herschel straightened and she sighed, wincing a little. "You need someone to work on your back – to release the pressure of the knots."

"You can't do it?" she asked with a slightly anxious tone.

"I think you would be better to ask Merle," Herschel intoned. "He will have the strength that is needed." Marion wrinkled her nose. "You need to have it attended to Marion."

She sighed and pulled her shirt on, then turned around to him. "I know, it's just – Merle's 'I told you so's' are so..."

Herschel chuckled and followed her out, turning towards his tent as she made her way to the fire, via the truck to throw in her clothes. Marion smiled at Carol and Beth, who had obviously been roused by Herschel moving about, as she approached.

"Everything alright?" Carol asked, glancing once at Herschel entering his tent.

"Yeah," replied Marion and squatted down to poke the fire some more, although it didn't really need it. Half way down her back, exacerbated from Herschel's manipulation gave out and she tipped – she twisted to avoid the flames and a groan was torn from her throat as she landed.

"Marion!" exclaimed both Carol and Beth, jumping up and coming to her side. "What's wrong?"

"I'll get Daddy!"

"Beth – no," called Marion between breaths and the girl stopped. "Your dad did what he could. I just – I just need to lie here for a bit." She stretched her arms above her head for a little while, arching her back up and grimacing a little with both Beth and Carol watching her in concern. "Ok," she decided and held her hands up. Carol and Beth each grabbed one and pulled her up – she stumbled a little and leaned against Carol for a few moments.

"What's wrong?" repeated Carol as Marion straightened.

"My back," grimaced Marion, reaching her arms above her head again. "I was wearing my seatbelt when the car pulled up – I got all twisted."

Carol frowned, her mind working through the kinetics of that. "But how does a seatbelt twist you?" she asked finally.

Beth gasped. "Oh no – that's my fault."

"It's not your fault sweety," Marion disputed.

"I _wasn't _wearing my seatbelt," Beth explained to Carol. "Marion twisted over the front of me –grabbed the seat behind us and held me in place."

"So when the seatbelt locked – it pulled half of you around," figured Carol.

Marion nodded, grimacing and lowered herself very cautiously onto the seat. "Herschel says it's all knotted." She sighed. "I'm just going to have to put up with Merle's gloating and get him to try and do something."

"You should see Daryl," suggested Carol. She giggled at the look that was directed her way. "Really – he'll be able to fix it."

"I beg your pardon?" Marion raised her brows high.

"Truly," nodded Carol and even Beth was nodding. "You should ask Daryl."

"Ask me what?" demanded a voice and all three of them jumped as the Dixons walked to the fire.

"What's wrong wit' ya?" demanded Merle, his eyes catching Marion's grimace.

"She hurt herself saving me," said Beth.

"Why tha fuck didn't ya say somet'in'?" Merle demanded again, walking to her.

"Because I know exactly what you're going to say and I really wasn't in the mood for it," she replied slightly tartly. "I got hurt because I was wearing a seatbelt – ok?"

His eyes lit with amusement. "Ya did, did ya sugar?"

"Oh shut up," she muttered, slapping a hand into his leg. "Just give me a hand please?"

He took the hand she held out and pulled her up, slightly surprised when she stepped and leaned into him. She grabbed his hand and guided it around to a spot on her spine. "There."

He pushed and he frowned as he felt the hardness. "Hell sugar – ya ain't bin like t'is all t'at time?"

"No," she groaned, pushing herself into him and grabbing at his belt as his fingers found a sensitive spot. "The crossbow contest pushed it a bit far and I ...er... might have overdone it a little last night," she added the last bit in a lower tone.

"Ya should let Daryl crack it for ya," said Merle.

"What?" Marion eased back into his arms to stare up at his face. "Crack. My. Back?" she repeated slowly.

"Yes," nodded Carol again. "He's good at it."

Marion turned doubtful eyes onto the hunter who was looked back at her with a smirk. "I have seen what that man does to small furry animals," she stated.

Merle chuckled as Carol and Beth laughed. "Na sugar – ya got tha wrong idea. Tha boy act'ally knows what he's on about – he did some work experience at a chiropractors. 'til Pa figured it out o' course."

Marion shuddered as a spasm went through her spine from the spot Merle's fingers were working on. "Really?" she looked at Daryl.

"Yup," he nodded. "Tha old man knew 'is shit but he didn't have tha strength ta do some o' tha moves – used ta git me in ta help."

"Is it going to hurt?" she asked doubtfully.

Daryl shook his head and Carol said. "Oh no – it feels really good actually."

Marion chewed her lip, she was leaning into Merle and his hand was still on her back but it had paused. "Would you mind?" she asked.

Daryl shook his head and turned to place his bow on the ground. "Come 'ere," he instructed.

Marion moved over, looking on the ground. "Lie down?" she asked.

"Nah," he said and wrapped his arms around her waist, positioned quite close behind her. "Relax," he instructed quietly as she tensed. "Ya scared o' me or somethin'?"

"Yes," she said incurably honest. "You cannot deny that you have wanted to strangle me more than once."

She felt his chest move as he chuckled. "Ah ain't goin' ta 'urt ya sister."

Her tenseness suddenly had nothing to do with worries about the Dixon form of medicine – she tried to turn her head to look at him but couldn't get more than a glimpse of his eyes which she was certain were mocking her. She took in a deep breath and relaxed.

His arm tightened and she felt herself being leaned backwards and her feet came off the ground as he braced her with his pelvis and leaned back, her shoulders pressed into his chest as her lower back bent with him. She heard a loud snap and instant relief spread up her spine at that kink in her spine fell into place.

She moaned in relief and Daryl put her feet back on the ground, straightening behind her. She allowed herself to sag against him – instinct kept his hands at her hips.

"Marion?" asked Carol in sudden concern.

Merle's brows rose as an imperious finger was held up in the air – both Carol and Beth paused.

"Ya ok woman?" demanded Daryl in a half uncertain tone.

"Ok?" she breathed. "I'm more than ok. Will you marry me?"

"Git owf!" he exclaimed and pushed her, although not too roughly, off him as Carol and Beth burst into laughter.

Marion turned, grinning and met Daryl's slight smirk. She stretched her back around a little – it still felt a little tender but she figured that if she could convince Merle to give her a proper massage then she would be fine. "Thankyou Daryl," she looked directly at him and hoping that she realised she was thanking him for more than the back manoeuvre. That she was thanking him for holding on, for allowing Merle to prove himself, for accepting her place _whatever that actually was._

"S'alright," he ducked his head a little, then looked up and gave her a direct stare.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"Merle? Do you have a moment?"

Merle looked up from cleaning the guns, Daryl not too far away oiling his crossbow – Marion's already drying in the sun. It was quiet in the camp, Glen and Maggie had gone on another run ('You have a list'? asked Glen as Merle walked towards him. 'One thing chinaman," replied Merle. "A tent – git me a tent. 4 man'd be best, but whatever ya can find will do fer tha moment') and the others had found things to amuse them with the chores of the camp and the pool. There were no further words so he pushed himself up, heading towards where her voice had sung from. His steps became quicker as he saw Marion struggling to hold the motorbike at a perilous angle. He grabbed the handlebars in his hand and pushed against the body with his stump.

"Wha' tha fuck 'appened?" he demanded, looking around for Carl. _If that little turd had been playing with his bike_.

"Well, you see," said Marion slightly shamefaced and his gaze turned to her. "I just thought that it might be fun to sit on it. And well – then the stand sunk into the ground and I couldn't hold it."

"Ya like me bike do ya sugar?" he smirked at her. It had been one of the drawcards during his life – the big powerful machine that he rode on. He was pleased to see that it had its effect on even Marion.

"Well its paint job needs a bit of work," she said wryly with a glance at the symbol on the fuel tank, "but I think it would be fun to ride."

"Fun don't even come close," he snorted. "Tha wind in ya face, the road whipping past ya, tha smoothness of the cornering – it'd blow ya socks off sugar."

"Soooo?" she suggested.

He sighed. "I can't ride 'er anymore sugar – not wit' one hand. Ya need two 'ands ta 'old 'er steady on tha road. And she's too 'eavy for ya," he added as he saw the speculative gleam.

"So you're strong enough but don't have enough hands and I have two hands but I'm not strong enough," she summarised expectantly.

His brows rose as he figured out what she had realised. He wondered briefly whether that had been the aim of the whole exercise _fuck he hoped so_. "Ya ridden a bike b'fore?" he asked keenly.

"Nothing this size," she admitted. "Only the 50cc around the farm."

He considered – as long as they didn't go too fast. It wasn't like there was that much traffic about nowadays. "It ain't like we got anyt'in' better ta do," he agreed.

"Should we check with Daryl?" she suggested with a crinkled nose.

"She ain't 'is bike," retorted Merle indignantly.

Marion raised a brow at him and he sighed, taking one step back to establish eye contact with his brother. "Hey Darylina," Marion rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly. "We takin' tha Bonneville out for a spin." He turned back to her and nodded and she bit her lip, thinking that Daryl really hadn't had a chance to have input to the decision. _Probably used to that._

Merle walked forward and threw his leg over the bike, using his one hand and thighs to lift the bike upright. Marion lifted her own leg over and took the handlebars, grimacing a little as she felt the weight.

"It'll git betta once she's movin'," reassured Merle. He leaned into her and kicked the bike over – the engine roared to life and he smiled _at least Daryl was taking care of her_. Dog barked and Merle looked down at him. "Ain't no room Dog – ya wait 'ere." He almost had to yell to make himself heard over the roar of the bike.

Dog didn't like the idea apparently because he tensed and then bounded in the air, his feet scrabbling on the duco of the bike.

"Fuck it mutt," growled Merle and grabbed him around the middle. He lifted him up and looked him in the eye. "Ya a pain in tha ass – ya know t'at right?"

Dog wagged his tail and attempted to lick Merle's face. He cursed mildly and placed the animal on the front of the seat, cushioned by Marion's legs. He felt her laughing at him and growled in her ear. "Clutch – use ya foot ta shift up or down."

Marion listened to his instructions carefully and with his legs bracing them on the ground and his left hand helping her support the handlebars she engaged the gears and the bike moved off. Carol opened the gate for them and waved at them briefly – Marion gave her a smile but concentrated on guiding the bike along the trailer park's rough access track until they got back to the main road. She put the bike on the centreline and opened it up, backing off slightly when she remembered that the dial in front of her was in miles, not kilometres. The wind hit her in the face, cool despite the heat of the day and she took in a deep breath, enjoying the exhilaration of the speed.

Merle relaxed a little once they hit the open road and let go of the handlebar. Out of habit he brought his hand back to his leg, but finding hers closer he sat it there instead. His stump was already resting against her other thigh. The roar and the throb of the engine pushed almost everything to the side; it was like it was just him and Marion in all of the world.

"Shall we take a look?" yelled Marion over her shoulder, nodding to a side road coming into sight.

"May as well," he nodded, knowing that it was the opposite way that Glen and Maggie had gone. He moved his hand back up to the handlebars, monitoring her downward shift of gears and helping keep the bike steady as she turned the front wheel. The side road was wide and clear and Merle released his hand, coming down on her upper thigh. He felt her jump a little and his brows quirked. He lifted his hand, but this time he placed it on her waist, tracking over her belly and back – extending his thumb so that it grazed the bottom of her breasts. There was no disguising the twitch that resulted and he grinned. He had her at his mercy. He moved his hand again, holding her shirt open enough that both it and his stump could move under, using the roughness of the stump to rasp against the smooth skin of her belly and up and down the sensitive skin along her side. His hand he moved up to her breast, cupping and squeezing one, gently rolling the nipple through the silken fabric of her bra. He lowered his mouth to her neck, kissing gently then nibbling along the bare skin to the edge of her t-shirt and then back again – until he found her ear.

The Bonneville over-revved.

He lifted his head over to the other side of her neck and shoulder, repeating the gesture while moving the stump in small circles on her belly in tandem with flicks of his thumb against a taut nipple. Every revolution was rewarded with a twitch and he could feel his own blood heating up. He dropped his hand, feathering over her belly and felt her move back against him. His fingers came to the top of her waistband – and Dog gave him a lick.

"Stop," Marion called out to him and he sighed – then he realised that she wasn't meaning him. The Bonneville slowed down as she shifted down and he put his hand up to the handlebar even as he dropped his feet.

"Wha'..." he managed, looking around to see what the threat was. But then her arms were wrapped about his head and she was tipped back against him and she drew him down for a kiss. A hungry, no holds barred kiss. There was a pyrotechnic display in his blood and he bore down into her, taking what she offered and demanding more even as he moved his hand back to her breasts which were now pushed out even harder into him. He rocked to the side and threw down the kickstand, then came back and brought one leg over the bike, never breaking contact with her. Her arms adjusted to the new position and he half pulled her off the bike, Dog jumping off lightly, and dragged her against him. He bent down slightly and cupped her behind – she jumped and clasped her legs around his waist and he walked her off the road.

Dog lay down next to the front wheel of the Bonneville, his ears flicking around to the noises in the area, including the giggles, moans, groans and gasps coming from the pair.

It was a couple of hours before they rolled back into camp, Andrea opening the gate with a wide eyed stare and Beth giggling at Dog with his front legs propped up on the handlebars.

Daryl met them as they parked the bike, his own gaze narrowing as he inspected the bike for any damage.

"Thankyou Daryl," Marion said after swinging off the bike. "That was fun."

"Yer wantin' it back?" wondered Daryl, left alone with his brother, and kicked at the dirt.

Merle traced the Bonneville's fuel tank, admiring its clean lines. "Nah – she's yours brot'er. It was fun – but I can't do 'er justice wit' one hand. Do me a favour t'ough? Lend it to tha woman if she ever wants ta ride again?" He lifted himself off the bike and looked at his slightly confused brother. "Best bitches seat I ever bin on," he smirked.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

The back cracking thing is not mine – I drew that from 'Clash' by Narnian at Heart because as soon as I read it I knew that I could have fun with it. I hope you did as well.


	78. Chapter 78

Chapter 78

Glen and Maggie brought home news of a potential place to raid and the next morning Rick, Andrea, Michonne and T-Dog joined them. Marion watched the extent of the discussions between the Dixons and Rick with a slight frown – Merle looking like a rock in the middle of a storm, albeit a soft voiced and narrowed eyed storm.

"What's going on?" asked Carol as Daryl stalked back towards them, Merle strolling back at a jaunty pace and Rick walking the other way.

"They're going on a raid," he replied shortly, walking past them.

"And you're not?" Carol's voice was bordering on incredulous as she did a 180.

"Does it look like ah am?" demanded Daryl angrily.

Marion's brows rose as a martial light came into Carol's eyes and took a couple of steps away to intercept Merle. "What was that?" she demanded.

"Officer Friendly wanted me 'n' Daryl ta go inta town," he explained as if that explained everything.

"And?" she prompted – because it didn't.

"I said no," shrugged Merle.

"Why?" she asked, uncertain yet as to whether she should be pissed off about him not integrating with the group.

"I ain't leavin' ya alone wit' a couple women, kids an' an old man who can't even walk," he snapped.

Her eyes widened and she puffed herself out a bit, unaware of how much he enjoyed that. "Merle Dixon," she started. "Are you bloody well kidding me? You seriously don't think I can take care of myself?"

"I ain't worried 'bout ya 'andling _yaself_ Marion," he said calmly, deflating her righteous indignation. "It's tha ot'ers t'at ya'll try 'n' take care o' t'at's tha problem."

"They are not hopeless Merle," she said and he snorted. "Really – how else do you think they've lasted this long?"

"'cause Daryl's kept 'em alive," stated Merle. He paused and then added almost reluctantly under her mocking gaze. "And 'cause Rick knows 'ow ta 'andle 'imself."

"So you're staying," accepted Marion. "And Daryl?"

Merle's eyes flicked up to where his brother was almost pacing in front of Carol. "'e's stayin' too."

"He looks so happy about that decision too," she observed dryly.

"Yeah well – 'e's Rick's bitch now, he does wha' 'e's told," growled Merle. He found himself fixed with two very hard brown eyes. "Rick didn't t'ink tha addition o' a one 'anded man would be t'at much safer."

_Man and his ego_ sighed Marion, shaking her head slightly at that and the unusual absence of tact from the lanky sherriff. He and Merle had set up an uneasy truce, but there was never going to be the understanding between them that was between Rick and Daryl.

"Well why don't I go with you then?" she asked. "Carol as well?"

"No," he shot back harshly, then temporised. "Not until ya can wield t'at blade properly sugar."

Marion crinkled her nose, but since the cars were even now driving out she didn't worry about arguing too much. Her back was much better, Beth had given her a massage the evening before and the majority of the kinks were gone. Merle had seen her shoulder bruise though and then the bruises that came up from Beth's rather vigorous work and she knew that he wouldn't accept her assurance that she was alright. _Not easily anyway_. So she shrugged, glancing over to where Carol now at least had stopped the pacing, and suggested instead. "Want to go fishing?"

Daryl was short in his negative answer (Marion and Carol shared a loaded glance) but Carl and Beth were happy to come along; Marion ignored Merle's muttered comment about not catching any fish now and extended the invitation to Herschel. He declined after serious consideration of how far away the lake was, even with partial vehicular access. They ensured he was settled with a couple of books and his shotgun and then piled into Merle's truck, Marion and Dog in with him and Carl and Beth riding in the bed and holding onto the top of the cab. Marion had not asked Lori along, full knowing that Merle's patience had been tried about as far as it would hold.

The lake was in pristine condition, wildflowers growing around the edge and flocks of ducks, geese and even some swans paddling through the water, ducking under occasionally in search of something. Merle set up the rods in front of Beth and Carl, but within an hour they had tired of it and were rambling through the scattered trees picking up wildflowers and hunting for mushrooms. Marion closed her eyes and allowed the water to lap at the bottom of her legs. Every now and again a splash would catch her attention and she would roll up to help Merle extract the fish off the hook and then hold the hook as he threaded a worm onto it, normally with her eyes closed much to Merle's amusement.

Several times he caught her looking at him strangely, but she just shook her head or gave him a vague answer. He considered pushing a little, but he didn't want to disrupt the peace that they had found so he kept quiet _ya pussy_.

Marion was thinking of that word that Daryl had used the day before. _Sister_. She had heard the men calling each other brother _was that just the flip side? The polite version of 'bitch'? _ She didn't really think so though – there had been too much laughter in his eyes, too much meaning. _He knew_. She wasn't sure what she thought about that; she was actually quite surprised that Merle had told him. In all of their earlier encounters with people he had been quick to disabuse anyone who presumed that they were married – out of habit she knew, he'd never put too much thought into what his constant denials might actually make her feel. _And who exactly isn't wearing the ring?_ reminded a tart voice and she glanced down at her right hand where her ring sat – the indent of her 'real' wedding rings had almost faded entirely off her left ring finger. _Had Daryl asked? Had Merle just told him? What was the context of the discussion? _ She breathed in a sigh, imagining how that conversation would go;

Marion: "So you told Daryl we were married?"

Merle: _turns with scowl, voice defensive _"Yeah – why not? Ya ashamed o' me?"

Marion: _hastily, _"No of course not. I just wondered what else you might have told him."

She glanced down at her arm. It didn't look like a bite, only if you knew what you were looking for could you see the two curved lines that outlined where the geek's teeth had closed over. It was the slice that Merle had made that was obvious, an almost luminescent stripe of white across her arm – there was another one further up her arm. She supposed it didn't look out of place on someone who carried both a knife and a sword – no-one had ever asked about it. _They_ had never talked about it, not since the day at the church. _Blessed – you were blessed_ and she sent a quick but heartfelt 'thankyou'. _You have an obligation_ started that same internal voice but she slammed the door on that and the burst of guilt that came with it.

The noise of a car broke through her musings where Beth's shrieking as Carl chased her with a frog could not and Dog sat up suddenly. They tensed, the two younger ones falling silent at an imperious whistle from Merle and both he and Marion braced themselves with weapons poised. They relaxed though as Carol wandered through the trees bearing a basket and Judith. Daryl slouched after her, his crossbow held too tight in his hands and a look of discontent very clear on his face. He nodded once to Marion but headed to where Merle was. Carl and Beth ran over, eagerly taking the sandwiches on offer before Carl went to show Daryl the frog he had caught.

"How's Daryl?" asked Marion as she accepted her sandwich, taking a glance at the two Dixon brothers.

"Feeling unloved," grinned Carol.

"You'll have to fix that then," suggested Marion with a wink.

"Well I _would_," giggled Carol. "But..." she looked down at Judith, fussing unhappily in the sling around her shoulders.

Marion chewed and then swallowed. "I'll take her," she offered. She shrugged as Carol looked up at her. "We won't hang around for too much longer – we'll get her back for her feed time easy enough."

"They'll find some more formula today," Carol hoped aloud. Then her voice became hesitant. "Are you sure?"

"Of course," exclaimed Marion, wondering why Carol could still think that people would offer her things only to snatch them away at the last minute. "Merle's had about enough of standing still anyway – we'll give it another hour to see if anything crawls into that cage he threw out and then head back. We've got a reasonable haul anyway."

Carol smiled and Judith was passed over, Marion holding her to her chest and winking again as Carol called out to Daryl to head back. Marion watched him hesitate, as if he wanted to stay, and then give Merle a quick word and turn to go with Carol. It could have been her imagination, but Marion thought his step became more of a saunter when he saw that Carol was sans baby.

"Aw 'ell sugar," groaned Merle as he saw that Marion held Judith. "Ya fuckin' wit' me?"

"Not while there're children about Merle," she said mildly and then giggled as his eyes darkened. "It's only for a couple of hours," she shrugged.

"Wha' tha fuck does Olive Oil do all day?" he demanded. "Kid cries all tha time wit' 'er – only time she ain't is when ya or Carol 'as tha kid."

"She's hungry," Marion smiled at the baby sucking hard on her thumb. "You underestimate how hard it is for the body to generate milk Merle," she chided. "It's not like our diet is all that crash hot – the fresh meat you and Daryl bring in is probably the only reason Judith is still alive. Lori's body needs lots of water and rest – she's already fading to a shadow. That burst of gastro really knocked her around."

Merle just grunted, unconvinced. But Judith was happy lying on the ground with Marion, working on her rolling skills which, he discovered with some disgust, were very distracting. It was only when Marion started to shiver under the breeze that picked up off the water and Judith started to grumble a little that he realised he had wasted close to two hours watching _his_ woman play with a baby. Shaking his head he yelled for Carl and started to dismantle the rods. The boy arrived wringing wet and was put to work moving the bucket of fish. Beth started to help pack up the chairs, blankets and other bits and pieces and walked towards the car. Carl bounced back and Marion handed him his sister, putting her scabbard and quiver back over her shoulders and picking up the crossbow as well as the nappy bag. She shook her head slightly, feeling somewhat like a packhorse before turning to see whether Merle needed help. She laughed to herself as she saw him struggling with the six rods and cage which had caught what she called yabbies and what Merle called crawdaddies (to mutual amusement) and walked over to at least straighten up the rods because she knew he would refuse to let her carry anything that he couldn't.

There was a scream and Marion whirled. Then there was a gunshot.

"Beth!" yelled out Carl and Marion suddenly found Judith thrust at her; she caught her as Carl let her go, sprinting away towards the car.

"Carl!" yelled Marion and Judith shrieked. "Fuck," she swore and dropped the nappy bag, holding the baby close to her chest as she ran after the boy.

"Damn it woman," growled Merle as she proved him right and he dropped everything, barrelling after her. His larger steps overtook hers and they came over a slight rise to see Carl pushing Beth away from a half dozen geeks that were stumbling towards them. Dog barked and scampered into the glitch, biting at heels and tripping the geeks up. Marion slowed down, letting Merle continue in alone, ignoring the geeks that were struggling to co-ordinate themselves up off the ground _he could deal with them later _and fighting his way through to the two kids.

"Fuck kid," swore Merle, shoving Carl's arm to the side as he was suddenly faced with the barrel of his small calibre gun. "Watch where ya pointin' t'at t'ing."

"Sorry," muttered Carl, holding the gun tightly in one hand and glancing over to Beth. "You alright Beth?" he asked.

Beth nodded, shaking a little with her own small gun held in both hands and _thankfully_ pointed at the ground. "Are they gone?"

Dog growled, looking up through what to him was very tall grass. Merle looked in the same direction, seeing more geeks wavering unsteadily towards the noise and the smell of food. "Fuck," he swore, even as Marion arrived next to him – headed straight for Carl. He forestalled her, "we gotta move."

Marion looked up at him and followed his gaze. "Carl," she started, turning towards the boy.

"Let's go," said Carl and grabbing Beth's hand he started to run to the car.

"Why you little..." breathed Marion staring in disbelief.

"Later sugar," instructed Merle, grabbing her elbow and reefing her ahead. They caught up with them easily but came to a shuddering halt – the glitch in front of them was at least thirty strong, not yet in a bunch but then they sighted the origin of the scent the wind had been bringing to them all day and their pace picked up, the groans of hunger becoming a dull roar. "Leave it," decided Merle even though he could see the roof of the truck and turned Marion back in the direction of the camp. "This way!"

Marion hustled along cursing even as she tried to soothe Judith so the baby's screams wouldn't attract more geeks. It was a futile effort – coupled with the multitude of gun shots the noise of the baby was – as Merle had said – like throwing the chum in the water. The geeks were slower, but they seemed never endless. Merle led the way, using his knife, his fist and, more sparingly, his silenced gun to clear a path. Dog darted along one of the flanks, grabbing the leg of any geek that was coming too quickly to allow her to avoid their reaching grasp. The kids kept pace easily enough, occasionally shooting at a geek that got too close.

Merle propped abruptly, there being no way through suddenly and they backed up hurriedly, standing in a tight group, three guns firing. Marion huddled against Merle's shoulder with Judith close to her chest.

"Merle – right!" she yelled and he whirled to drive his blade through the skull of a geek. "This is _not_ working!" she yelled.

He didn't need to look at her to understand – she was fully armed with a crossbow and sword but couldn't use either with Judith in her arms. Her knife was also on her hip – but she didn't have the reach to be able to deal with a geek while still protecting Judith. _He on the other hand._ "Give 'er ta me," he demanded and with only a momentary hesitation she handed over the baby. He braced her along his stump, holding her tight to his chest. "Carl – watch me back," he yelled and the boy turned, firing his gun with deadly accuracy. "Up," he said to Marion, holding out his hand.

She took one glance up and put one hand on his head and a foot in his hand.

"One, two, allyoop," he grunted and pushed her up into the air. She pushed off with her other leg and reaching with one hand she was able to reach the branch above her.

"Merle!" she yelled and he whirled, Dog hit the geek in the knees and Merle fired the gun into its eye socket.

There was a whoosh, pause one two three, whoosh, pause one two three, whoosh from above him as Marion fired the crossbow, reloaded and fired again. He didn't see the fruits of her labour, realising that she was firing outside of the immediate circle surrounding them – thinning down the crowds that were being drawn in to the sound of the guns.

A gun clicked empty behind him, he felt a body come closer to his back _Beth_. They were down to two guns – the rate Carl was firing he wouldn't last for much longer either.

_Whoosh _one two three _whoosh_. He tried to remember how many bolts Marion had had in her quiver.

"MERLE!" yelled a voice through the trees.

"DARYL," he yelled back, driving his blade through the eye socket of one geek and then twisting his hand so that he could fire the gun into another.

More gun fire was heard, getting closer then he heard Daryl grunt as he drove a blade into a geek before bringing his bow up and firing a bolt through the head of a geek shambling in towards them. "Carol's got the car ova there," he pointed behind him.

"Clear us a path lit'le brot'her," instructed Merle and Daryl looked up; he took a couple of steps back and launched himself into the air, using the strength of his arms and then accepting Marion's hand to get onto the branch.

The speed of the whooshing sound above Merle increased dramatically.

Marion grimaced as her arms protested yet another shot, then a reload, then another shot. The glitch was still coming, but there was a path appearing now, out of the immediate press below them. "Beth!" she called down, noticing the girl standing behind Merle. He had braced a foot against hers and kept it rooted even as he turned and spiked a geek. The young woman looked up at the sound of her name, her eyes round like saucers and swimming in fear. "Get up here!"

Beth held up her hands frantically but Merle heard and he turned, holding his gun and knife out of the way. "Foot on me 'and," he instructed. "Hey honeypouch!" he shouted and got her attention. "Foot here – come on I aint got all fuckin' day." She was significantly lighter than Marion and she almost flew through the air, Marion caught a handful of her shirt, then Daryl had her under the arm and dragged her to the branch.

"Load for Daryl," instructed Marion and shoved the bow into the girl's hands, then the quiver.

"Where tha fuck ya goin'?" demanded Daryl.

"I can't shoot anymore," she said tersely. "And we're going to run out of ammo soon. Merle can't get up into the tree. We need to move."

His blue eyes focused on her brown for a second _processing_; then he nodded and turned his bow around. He reloaded and fired again before Beth had managed to reload Marion's, but when she held it out to him he took it, passing her his own and then repeated the process.

Marion swung down to the ground, drawing the sword out smoothly and chopping off the head of one geek as it lunged at her. She could faintly hear the gunshots coming from the direction that Daryl had pointed to.

"Fuck it woman – wha' are ya doin'?" yelled Merle.

Carl's gun clicked empty.

"Git back up tha fuckin' tree!" he yelled.

Marion ignored him, dancing forward and spinning, slicing through one torso and then taking off another head. She stepped carefully to avoid the fallen but still active heads, feeling Merle shadowing her as she moved out from the immediate area of the tree. A bolt whooshed past her ear, taking out one geek as it lunged to her and her swing cut off its already dead head. _Bloody hell _she bit back a curse _will have to have a word with Daryl_ she thought abstractly but didn't waste the time to turn to him. She drove the sword through the skull of another and used her foot to push her off before lifting and swinging again.

The sound of a car horn echoed through the trees and Daryl gave a piercing whistle. "CARL!" yelled a hoarse voice.

"DAD!" yelled back Carl from his position in the tree where Merle had thrown him.

"Rick! This way!" screamed Beth.

It was over quickly from then, gunshots sounded from the road and then the group appeared, Michonne wielding her katana, Andrea and Rick firing with deadly accuracy, Glen and Maggie slicing with machetes.

Marion bent over, taking in deep breaths.

"Ya alright?" asked Merle.

She straightened and nodded, her eyes lighting with amusement as she saw Judith fast asleep in Merle's stump. _Little wench had slept through it all_ she realised.

"Daryl and I'll go back and git tha truck," he said and carefully handed the baby over.

"Now?" she asked in concern – the immediate area had been cleared but Dog was still growling, able to hear and smell the geeks still approaching.

"Be easier with just tha two o' us," he nodded. "I ain't leavin' tha truck an' ya know we'll be movin' on after t'is."

She nodded. "Take Dog?" she suggested and he nodded. "Watch yourself, both of you," she said seriously.

"Only a Dixon can kill a Dixon," he smirked and kissed her quickly before turning and jogging off with his brother.

Marion wrinkled her nose _problem is, you don't know any of their names._ She turned and made her way back to the others, shaking her head as Beth tried to offer her back her crossbow. There were several gunshots sounding and they hurried – T-Dog and Carol firing at the geeks still stumbling towards them all. T-Dog sat back behind the wheel of the truck and most of the group piled into the back; Marion moved to the car and sat next to Carol, reassuring her quickly to take the panicked look from her eyes.

Herschel opened the gate for the vehicles and they piled out. Lori was waiting anxiously at the gate, grasping Carl close and then all but snatching baby Judith, who awoke immediately that she sensed her mother and announced that she was really, _really_ hungry. They shut the gates and T-Dog, Andrea and Michonne started patrolling. Marion tersely explained the situation to Rick and then waited with he and Carol for the excruciating hour until the truck came into view, Dog's head out of the passenger window. Marion heaved a sigh of relief, and then she turned around and examined the camp with narrowed eyes. With her most pressing concern out of the way, there was something else that needed to be dealt with.

"Carl Grimes!" she yelled, catching sight of the sherriff's hat.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"Wha' tha fuck is wrong wit' ya?"

Merle looked up at Daryl's demand as the boy dropped next to him with a sigh and a surly look on his face.

The camp was secure for the moment, some more geeks killed towards dusk but nothing like the glitch at the lake. There had been discussion and it had been decided that they would stay the night, post extra guards and leave in the morning. Everything was packed except for the tents and the cooking gear; dinner had been moved forward in the light to allow things to be packed and then extra guards would be posted to ensure that the camp remained secure.

"Marion chewed me out," replied the boy in sullen tones. "Went on with a whole heap of guff about decision making and thinking of the big picture." He stabbed the ground with his pen knife. "I _saved_ Beth, I killed a lot of walkers – she doesn't know shit."

"Ya fuckin' lucky she got ta ya b'fore I did," said Merle in a low tone and Carl looked up in sudden worry. "Ya almost got us all killed wit' ya lit'le knight in shinin' armour routine."

"What?" exclaimed Carl. "I..."

"You disabled someone with silent weapons," interrupted Merle tersely. "Ya made a lot of noise t'at attracted more geeks."

"I _saved _Beth," Carl mumbled.

"Marion coulda done t'at wit' her bow," pointed out Merle, feeling Daryl watching him keenly. "_Quietly_. T'en t'ere wouldna 'ave been t'at clusterfuck at tha tree. If Daryl 'adn't shown up when he did," he left the sentence hanging. A thought struck him and he turned to his brother. "Why exactly did ya show up brot'er? I t'ought ya went back ta camp hours b'fore."

Even in the darkening light Merle could see the red flood up Daryl's face and the baleful glare he sent Carl's way for bringing his brother's attention to it. Merle laughed.

"She hates me," muttered Carl.

"Marion?" Merle snorted. "She don't hate ya Carl. Ya needed a kick up tha ass – she gave it ta ya." _without totally destroying him_ he though. "She wants ya ta live."

As if to prove his point Marion walked towards them carrying some plates of food – grilled fish and some mash potatoes and tinned peas. She handed one to Merle and then one to Daryl and gave Carl's hair a ruffle as she walked past, trailing her fingers over Merle's shoulders. The boy had looked up at her hand on his head and his eyes widened, a slight smile teasing at his lips and Merle could almost hear his mind ticking over. _He was a smart enough kid_ thought Merle almost unwillingly.

"Mr Merle?" asked Carl hesitantly after a while and Daryl snorted.

"Ya killin' me kid," groaned Merle. "It's Merle ok – just Merle." He paused, conscious of several pairs of eyes on him. "Wha'?"

"Why are you wearing a wedding ring?"

The silence of the group compounded – Merle looked up to see almost every eye on him – then they turned surreptitiously (with the exception of Glen who simply stared) to where Marion was helping Carol dish out the food and was totally oblivious.

Merle swallowed; his own eyes going up to Marion. She smiled at him; then noticed the strange atmosphere in the camp and her brows closed in a slight frown.

"Well ya see Carl 'e's of good genetic stock" drawled Daryl as the silence lengthened, and ducked the roundhouse blow that came at him without even looking.

Marion giggled, catching on quickly to the topic of conversation and bit her lip.

"Oh, there's a story there," said Andrea, looking back and forth between Marion and Merle.

Merle sighed. "Go on t'en."

Marion laughed outright, then picked up her plate and walked over to him, placing herself on the ground between his legs and the plate on her lap. "Well you see; we met a man named Elijah. He had grand plans."

Her dinner had gone cold but the mood of the camp was significantly lighter as she finished her story. Merle pushed himself to his feet and then reached down to pull her up. "I'm on first watch," he said.

She nodded and watched as he walked away. She turned abruptly, finding Daryl slouching nearby, his blue eyes studying her.

"Yer story is a little bit diff'rent ta Merle's" he commented.

"He and I see things differently," she shrugged and held out her hand for his plate.

"So ah guess that makes ya mah sister in law," he continued, handing it to her.

"It's not like the marriage was real" Marion said quickly. "Merle was forced into it."

Daryl snorted. "No-one forces Merle ta do what 'e don't want ta." He looked at her keenly, his eyes dropping once to her fingers where she wore the ring. "It's as real as ya want it ta be. And 'e still wears the ring don't he?"

Marion blinked, staring into the night with a pile of plates for several minutes after he stalked away. _He did, didn't he_ she thought. _It wasn't like he had anywhere else to put them_ noted a tart internal voice. _He has four other fingers_ noted another. _Or he could just toss it_.

Marion was still thinking about Merle's other actions when his shift finished and he crawled in next to her. She rolled over, plastering her body against his to take the chill out of him, lying her head on his shoulder and gently stroking his chest with a hand while she looked out into the camp. She heard him sigh, his arm wrapped around her and his cheek rested against the top of her head. Dog heaved a sigh and settled down.

_Baby steps – baby steps. _

"Did I ever tell you what Nanna's maiden name was?" she asked quietly and Merle frowned, struggling to wake up enough to think.

"Some Scottish royal?" he replied after a moment.

He felt her chuckle, "No that was Granddad's name." There was a pause, almost long enough that he rolled his head to ask her what the answer was. Then she spoke again. "My grandmother was English, actually born in England and came over as a girl." She paused again. "Her name was Dixon." (1)

He snorted _woman sure came out with some strange shit. What the hell did she think_... his thought processes came to a shuddering halt and for a few moments he forgot how to breathe. _No – she didn't – did she?_

"Night Merle," she whispered and planted a kiss on his neck, rolling off his arm and pressing her back against him.

There was silence then "night sugar" was breathed out of a very stiff throat. She smiled to herself and closed her eyes.

_Baby steps_.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) True story!


	79. Chapter 79

Chapter 79

Only a Dixon could love a Dixon. _She couldn't have meant that could she?_ wondered Merle yet again as his eyes dwelt on Marion as she ducked and weaved, swiped and struck. The thud, clunk and occasional thump were dull and muted but they rang through the camp. Every now and again there was a grunt as one of the thick sticks made contact – nothing serious as they didn't want an injury, but solid enough to make a point. The entire camp was watching, sitting on the small bench seats around the edge of the small arena.

It had started because Andrea had seen Marion fighting with her sword, not simply carrying it and made a comment about the different style between Michonne and Marion. Beth, somewhat affected by a girl crush, had defended Marion where Marion would have been quite happy to accept that Michonne's technique was better. Andrea had returned fire, then had Beth and before either of the contestants had realised, there was a competition scheduled.

They had left the trailer park early in the morning; the Dixon brothers accompanied by Rick, Andrea and Michonne had cleared the path of the geeks that had made it from the lake to the camp overnight. T-Dog had been given (brief) permission to ride the Bonneville and Glen had marshalled the other women to drive the cars out of the park, Herschel guiding Beth to tow one trailer out and Marion, despite Merle's misgivings, bringing out the other. Both trailers had all their windows wide open – the hope had been that the final odours would be vanquished by the wind where vinegar, eucalyptus oil and even bleach had failed. The two portions of the group had met up and rearranged; Carol had smiled at T-Dog as he had passed the Bonneville over to its rightful rider and then perched up behind Daryl. Marion had teased Merle a little but had finally moved into the passenger seat just as he arrived at the point of threatening bodily violence.

She had treated him like any other day, kissing him chastely good morning when she woke, serving him breakfast, helping him pack up the tarps, chatting about stuff that they drove past; _as if nothing special had happened the night before_. For the life of him he couldn't remember _ever_ saying that to her – so she _couldn't _have meant that. But while she often came out with random stuff, brain farts Daryl would call them, there was always some point to them, or some trail from what she had last been talking about (and Merle had been given a guided tour once when he had asked) that did sort of make sense. _Maybe _she had meant that. _So what the fuck was he meant to do now?_

They had pulled up at what Marion called a showground in the middle of the afternoon and parked the trailers to allow an easy exit if need be. Dog had taken after a couple of half starved cats and had been severely chastised, but nothing else stirred. There had been the obligatory perimeter searches, the inspections of the facilities and filling of the trailer's water tanks to allow for cold showers. Glen and Maggie had left to do a quick inspection and had returned with news that there was a large shopping centre on the other side of a bridge but that it was overrun with walkers.

All the chores finished and the new camp relatively secure, Andrea had looked for some entertainment. Between her, Beth and Carl both Marion and Michonne had been forced to their feet. There had been some hesitation as they looked at the blades that they held: the katana was strong and sharp and could potentially cut through the bulkier broadsword, or the broadsword just by its sheer brute force may shatter the katana. Rick didn't even need to utter his prohibition before both Marion and Michonne decided that the risk was too great and sought alternatives.

"Whoops – sorry," grinned Marion as she snuck under Michonne's guard and jabbed her in the ribs, making the woman grimace in pain, and then hurriedly retreating as the cudgel came towards her at speed.

"Come on Mich!" called out Andrea, clapping as Marion was caught across her thigh in a stinging blow.

"Hit tha fuckin' Yankee bitch sugar (1)," encouraged Merle in retaliation, swallowing the racial slur at the last moment. Judging by Marion's brief glare she had read the subtext though and so, it appeared, had Michonne and Marion's eyes widened as she ducked and weaved under a sudden fury of blows that were directed at her. She straightened and blocked a blow – her muscles, honed from not only the broadsword but also the bow, engaged and for a moment the two women locked, only centimetres from each other, as they fought for supremacy. "Ya got 'er!" shouted Merle.

Michonne apparently came to the same conclusion – she threw herself back and Marion's cudgel suddenly had nothing to brace it. She swung over, but kept going and Michonne's blow hit the dirt behind her. Michonne spun; there was a thud as the two sticks came together, then another and another.

"Whoo hoo!" shrieked Andrea as the two figures became still abruptly – Michonne holding her 'sword' edge hard against Marion's neck – a triumphant smile on her face.

"In ya dreams Blondie," snapped Merle and Michonne looked down – seeing the edge of Marion's 'sword' pressed against her heart and angled up towards the brain. She looked back up slowly and Marion wiggled her eyebrows at her, a slight smirk appearing.

"I'm sorry Marion – but I'm going to have to give it to Michonne," announced the appointed judge, Herschel.

"Horseshit," snorted Merle. "Michonne was dead dead."

"And Marion had no head," snapped Andrea, whirling.

"Geek 'eads still bite Blondie," he sneered, smirking as the wind was taken out of her sails. She turned around again but Marion and Michonne had eased back, both covered in a sheen of sweat and breathing harder than normal.

"You have a crude, but effective style", said Michonne in her cultured and careful tones. "Where did you learn it?"

"Highlander," replied Marion lightly. "One mostly but some from two; 3 wasn't really all that helpful." She became aware that the entire camp was staring at her in astonishment. Carl giggled suddenly and she glanced at him. "I mean Yoda and Obi-wan are obviously the masters but I just couldn't do the whole flipping in the air bit and I'm guessing that lightsabers handle differently."

"Wha' that fuck?" burst out Merle as there was a wave of giggling around the camp. "Ya telling me ya been traipsing all over tha country wit' me usin' sword moves from a _movie_?" Beth lost it entirely at the indignation, the outrage, in his voice. "Ya be fuckin' with me?" he demanded as Marion walked over towards him.

Marion paused, pressing herself against his side and lifted up onto her toes to whisper into his ear "Not until you get us a bloody tent."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"The doors are shut and look secure," reported Glen, arranging the rocks and sticks that had been gathered so that he could make his report. "But the carpark is crawling with them. We..."

He and Maggie had returned to the shopping centre _mall Marion – mall! _early in the morning at Rick's request. Besides Merle's overwhelming desire to acquire a tent of his own (because there was no way he was taking someone else's leftovers, nor was he sleeping in a tin can even if there wasn't too many bodies for the two of them already) there were some other pressing needs. Of most concern was Judith – now in dire need of formula. She pretty much never stopped fussing when she was awake and the time she was sleeping was becoming less and less. Lori was looking haggard and was also obviously in pain from the savagery that Judith was trying to drink. Carol was also getting stressed as she continually struggled to soothe the baby to let Lori recuperate and Marion had overtaken the duties of food preparation with Beth assisting. Rick had decided that he had to go into the centre, which proudly proclaimed the existence of a Wallgreens (2) within it, a place that both Lori and Carol had assured him would have had formula.

Merle stood on the periphery of the group, standing behind where Daryl crouched next to Rick, dispassionately surveying the group. "Ya gonna get yaself killed chinaman," he drawled as he listened to the plan.

"Merle's right," Rick leaned back and wiped his hand through his hair, obviously unhappy about the situation.

"Nah," said Daryl, leaning in with his blade. "We clear a path through here – git in through tha doors." Merle could hear the desperation in his voice – his brows had risen the first time Carol had handed him a crying Judith like it wasn't anything special for him to mind her but he remembered the days that Daryl had been the handyman at the local childcare. He had always had a way with the kids.

"Daryl – it won't work," sighed Rick, his own voice shaking with the stress. He hadn't shirked his fatherly responsibilities – taking as much of the load of looking after Judith as he could, but she seemed to get distressed around him. _Which would hurt him bad_ thought Merle, Marion having filled him in on the dynamics of the newest Grimes _probably to prevent ya from sticking ya size 12's in ya mouth._

"So what tha fuck ya goin' ta do Rick?" exploded Daryl, standing up and pacing in an agitated circle. "Ya just goin' ta let her starve?"

"Calm down Darylina," drawled Merle and faced the firey eyes calmly. Daryl stared at him for another three seconds then got control of himself and squatted back down again.

"Are you sure the inside is clear Glen?" asked Marion in the sudden silence.

"Pretty sure," he replied, looking up at her. "There was a fair amount of light getting in through the main doors – we couldn't see anything moving." Maggie nodded in agreement.

"How close can you get a vehicle?" she asked.

"To the doors?" Glen looked at his rough map. "Right up to them. They're some big chains on the doors though."

Merle could almost hear her brain ticking over. "Smash and grab," she suggested and looked at Merle for concurrence. He didn't like the way this was going. "T-Dog's and Merle's trucks." _Nope – he did NOT like the way this was going._ "The first one takes out the doors – goes straight in. The second parks in the hole – keeps the geeks out while you're raiding."

"The geeks will block us in," protested Andrea. "We'll be stuck," she shuddered.

"So Carol and I stay outside," Marion shrugged. "Keep the exit clear."

"No," said Daryl shortly.

There was a pause while Marion looked at him and realised that he was being deadly serious. She turned to Carol, her tone conversational. "It's amazing the way these Dixon men put so much effort into their decisions, how they examine every facet of the problem, carefully consider the pros and cons of all the options, isn't it?" Carol put her hand to her nose, finding a sudden itch that needed attending to. Marion looked back to Rick. "We'll keep the geeks distracted, leave you in peace. Except," she shrugged "for the ones inside."

"I said no," said Daryl again, turning to look at her.

"I don't actually recall asking your permission Daryl," she said icily. "I certainly don't need it." She turned back to Rick again. "Merle and I did something similar in Sylacauga – used the truck to get entry and to block them off. There's more here by the sound of it, but the theory should still be fine."

"Ya ain't putting Carol and yerself in that sort of danger," snapped Daryl, standing up. "I'll stay out with Merle..."

"Don't be a dummy," snorted Marion, interrupting him and Merle smirked inwardly. "You two are more valuable in close quarters."

"Rick'll need Carol ta git tha formula," Daryl fumed.

"Both Maggie and Glen are more than capable of finding the appropriate tins," she fired back. "Crikey – even _daddy _Rick may be a rough chance of identifying something which says 'Baby Formula'," she mocked him lightly.

Merle watched the exchange with a smirk – Marion looking for all the world like a ruffled Penny, all puffed up and chin lifted as she faced off; Daryl was almost shaking with suppressed anger as he glared at the woman who didn't even come up to his chin. _That won't work_ thought Merle with a grin. The rest of the group he saw were looking at her in shock – Glenn with open awe. Apparently the group weren't used to seeing Daryl being taken to task _Carol must do it in private_ he thought.

"Ya ain't going," Daryl asserted.

"Daryl Dixon," Marion started deliberately, a martial light in her eye.

Merle sighed and stepped forward, wrapping his hand around her mouth. "Don't ya pull that Dixon stuff on my lit'le brother woman– he's not up to arguing with an intellectual bitch."

He ignored the glare that was directed against him and the stiffening of the body against his, looking directly at his brother. "Give it up lit'le brother – she can 'andle 'erself. So can little sister woman."

Carol ducked her head, still a little embarrassed that Merle was calling her that after the marriage story had been told. Daryl's teeth still gritted – more at the mocking tone than the open acknowledgment of his relationship.

"T'ey both can 'andle tha long range guns, we'll set 'em up in a perch t'at tha geeks can't git ta. T'ey'll be as safe t'ere as anywhere else."

Daryl subsided, obviously unhappy at the arrangement but after a glance at Carol had realised that he was not going to win this one. He turned his back on Marion and squatted back down.

Merle released Marion and met her glare calmly. "Don't ya glare at me sugar – I'm on ya side r'member?"

She snorted but stepped forward, Daryl moving grudgingly as she talked to Glen about what else he had seen.

The plan was simple as she had said. All of the camp, except for Herschel, Lori and Beth loaded into the trucks – Marion and Merle had emptied the bed of all the boxes (Glen had said something out the thing being like the tardis as he watched box after box being disgorged), and both trailers were disconnected. Merle had declared in no uncertain terms that his truck would not be the one crashing through the doors so everyone except Rick and T-Dog were in the bed as they drove to the centre.

The geeks turned as the trucks came up to the carpark, scattered throughout the cars still parked haphazardly on the bitumen. Marion started firing as soon as the vehicle halted; it took her three shots until there was a sharp snap of steel as she hit her target. Daryl threw himself out of the bed, firing once with his bow before slinging it over his shoulder and bringing the shotgun to bear and firing in rapid succession at the geeks that were in range. Carol and Marion hit the bitumen running, following into the gap he made even as the rest of the group opened up with the guns, Merle leaning through the driver's side window with Dog whining beside him. Daryl reached the light post first and bent down, cupping his hands together – Carol placed her foot into them and reached upwards, he heaved up and she latched the large steel hook around the first rung of the maintenance ladder. It slid down with a clang, the broken lock almost landing on Daryl, the noise almost covering the sound of geeks that closed in – Marion's sword scraped out and she sliced forward, the bullet density dropping until it was only Rick, Merle and Andrea shooting around her as she cleared some space while Carol started climbing up the ladder.

"Sherwood," snapped Daryl and she sheathed the sword, turning and jogging over to him _Dixons and their bloody nicknames _and accepted his boost to get her within reach of the ladder. She went up and with a grunt he used the hook to push the lower section up behind her so that nothing could follow them. She paused below Carol's feet and they watched as Daryl threaded his way back, using the same hook with deadly effect and supported by the gunfire from the truck, breathing a sigh of relief as he jumped into the bed and Merle and T-Dog screeched the trucks away, several dozen geeks lumbering after them.

There was silence except for the low groans emanating from the geeks in the carpark, attracted by the noise and then the scent of the two women they started to gather at the bottom of the pole. "Hmm," Marion chewed on her lip _slight flaw in the plan_. "At least they'll get in easy enough." _Us getting out could be different_ she thought and saw that Carol had seen the same thing. _That's this afternoon's problem_ she thought and nodded her chin upwards – Carol started to climb. They reached the first set of lights and Carol edged out onto it, bracing her feet in the steel frames below her and setting the gun against her shoulder, testing the stability. Marion climbed up a bit further, her perch not directly over the top of Carol, and lay along the beam, bracing her position with her feet and elbow. She threaded the belt around the beam, noting Carol doing the same – she wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to hang suspended from the pole, but it was better than landing.

_He still hadn't said anything_ she thought in the 'sort of' silence. _Maybe she had been too obscure? Maybe he hadn't understood?_ She thought. _Maybe he just needs time to figure out how to reply?_ But there was another possibility. _Maybe he didn't love her. _She knew he cared – and there was no doubt he _wanted_ her. But being _in-love_ with someone – that was different.

It was an hour until the trucks returned, giving the geeks time to settle back down again as per the plan. Marion and Carol amused themselves by singing songs which had the added benefit of attracting more geeks in their general direction. "Here we go," announced Marion catching sight of Merle's headlights flashing at her. She settled down and focused the scope, sitting the cross hairs on one of the geeks meandering around the doors. She heard Carol fire her first shot, saw a geek fall out of the edge of the scope, then she fired and her target fell. They fell into a pattern, Carol took those to the left; Marion took those to the right, starting from outside and moving in, occasionally returning back to the outside as another geek shambled into view. Most of those who were moving were coming their way, following the noise, but there was the occasional shot coming from where the trucks were poised indicating that there were other geeks around.

"They're coming," said Carol and Marion focused her attention at the doors – Carol broke off to avoid any potential for a stray shot or ricochet. T-Dog revved the engine hard – jumped the kerb, wiped out both mirrors on the traffic bollards and smashed through the glass doors, disappearing from view. Merle squealed the tyres as he spun the truck, slammed it in reverse and followed through the gaping hole, leaving only the bonnet sticking out. Marion and Carol increased their efforts, taking out the geeks that had been attracted by the noise.

"I'm out," announced Carol as her weapon ticked over empty.

Marion adjusted her sweep, changing her target zone to proximity based only. She pushed in the last spare clip that Merle had been able to find and counted down. Her third last bullet she drilled into the sign above the doors – the signal that the group on the inside were on their own.

They sat for a while, listening to the moans and groans, the pole swaying slightly under the press of decaying ex-humanity as they clawed at the smooth metal. "Now what?" she said in a false baritone.

Carol giggled.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Merle fired his gun at the geek crawling over the top of the bonnet – he could see the bullet hole that told him they wouldn't get any support from the outside. The haul was impressive – T-Dog's truck was full to the brim, Michonne, Andrea as well as Rick and Carl crammed into the cab. Glen and Maggie were in the back seat of his truck, the empty space between them taken up by the very important tent and every other available space between them crammed with clothes, blankets and food; the bed of the truck packed solid and tied down to keep the three levels secure. All of their needs were covered, there was enough baby formula to keep Judith happy until she was a teenager and not one of them would go cold, even Carl who was apparently growing through a size a month – they had grabbed clothes through all sizes. They had encountered geeks; there had been some hairy moments that Merle would keep to himself to avoid Marion fretting – but they were all safe and on their way out.

"Ya ready?" he demanded of Daryl, who nodded grimly, holding his gun just inside the door to avoid being cut by the jagged shards of glass on the edges of the doors. It was going to get crowded with the two women in there, but Carol at least could sit on Daryl's lap and Marion could squeeze into the middle seat. Merle revved the engine and the tyres squealed on the smooth inside floor – he shoved it into 4wd and the tyres gripped the rougher pavers outside and shot out. T-Dog followed hard on their tail, heading directly back to the camp while Merle headed to towards the light post.

"Wha' tha fuck?" demanded Daryl, staring ahead.

"Where'd they all go?" wondered Glen, seeing that there were no geeks within sight, only a pile of bodies surrounding the light pole.

_More than had been there before _realised Merle and with a foreboding feeling he looked up into the lights. It was empty.

"Fuck!" shouted Daryl as he saw the same thing, never the less getting out of the truck and pacing around, his gun held tightly in his hand. "CAROL!" he screamed.

"Hey!" Merle snapped as he exited the truck, Dog bouncing out after him. "Git ahold of yaself," he ordered. He could hear a sound and he turned. "There they are," he noted.

"What? Where?" demanded Daryl, turning suddenly to look with him.

"Wow," blinked Glen. "That's pretty er... disturbing."

The car was rocking under the force of the geeks, pawing and grabbing at it; the car's shrieking alarm slightly muffled by the sheer press of humanity.

"Why are they doing that?" wondered Maggie.

"The noise," explained Glen. "We did the same thing in Atlanta, when the group was pinned down."

"Prob'bly where she got tha idea," nodded Merle.

Glen looked at him suddenly in horror. "You don't think..."

"Nah," he shook his head. "She woulda used up one o' 'er bullets – set off tha alarm from 'er perch." He hadn't been impressed when he had heard that part of her plan _she had to know that he would die before he would let anything happen to her_.

"So where are tha women?" demanded Daryl, in no mood to admire the scene.

Merle turned, looking to the ground and watching Dog sniff uncertainly at the bitumen, almost shiny after a full day in the hot sun. Daryl saw what Merle was doing and he moved to the other side of the light pole, studying the ground carefully.

It wasn't much – but it was there, a thin trail of blood from one of the geek bodies and Merle led the way out to the main road, Daryl stalking next to him and Maggie and Glen following in the truck. Daryl scanned the ground, swearing under his breath as he saw the blood trail peter to a stop, his eyes frantically searching for some sign. Merle couldn't see a damn thing _she would leave a sign_ he thought, _she wouldn't just disappear like that. Unless he didn't need a sign _he suddenly realised. He looked up.

"Ya fuckin' wit' me woman?" he hissed, looking over his shoulder and seeing just the tip of the light tower.

"What'd ya see?" demanded Daryl but Merle ignored him, walking back to Glen's open window.

"Take tha truck back," Merle instructed. "Ya put one scratch on 'er chinaman an' ya an' me gonna 'ave words – ya git it?"

Glen nodded but hesitated. "Are you sure? What about Marion and Carol?"

"I know where t'ey are," replied Merle. "Daryl an' me will git 'em and bring 'em home."

Uncertain but unable to argue with Merle, Glen put the truck in gear and drove the truck off.

"Wha' tha fuck is that about?" demanded Daryl. "There ain't any fuckin' sign o' 'em."

Merle nodded up the street to where a steeple was visible. "Damn woman 'as like a bingo card for churches," he complained. "Every fucking place we went she 'ad to stop at tha fuckin' church."

Daryl followed his glance and some of his agitation faded. They walked up the hill towards the church; as a whole the neighbourhood looked like it had been over-run while packing, there were vehicles in most driveways, doors and boots open. There were obvious signs of some geeks that had been taken out by sword and knife. The church itself was surrounded by a stone fence, a sign which identified it as The Lady of Martyrs Catholic Church (3) had the last encouraging message "The end is near, have faith."

Merle heard Daryl snort as they pushed open the gate, again there was a concentration of geeks in the area, and walked towards the door. Daryl pushed it open and stepped in – Merle almost bumped into him as he pulled up short at finding a pair of handguns pointed directly at him.

"What the hell," started Daryl.

"Don't you dare," exclaimed Marion in outraged terms, looking up from patting an excited Dog.

"We didn't know where you were," he all but shouted back at her and Carol put a hand on his arm.

"Why? We left breadcrumbs," Marion shrugged calmly. "You're here aren't you?"

Daryl opened his mouth and then closed it again. He looked up once to meet Merle's eyes and Merle bit back a chuckle at the expression in them. _Boy'd never be able to handle his woman_.

"Now we've got ta walk back," Daryl complained instead.

"Well actually," grinned Marion and exchanged a look with Carol.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) I recently read something on tumblr that wondered about Michonne's lack of 'southern' accent. As you well know I am no judge, but I've taken the uncertainty and run with it.

(2) Basic Google search for pharmacists in Tennessee indicated that there was more than one in Nashville. I am hoping it is a chain store (maybe a relation to Wallmart?) and that my context makes sense.

(3) Inspired by an old post on carylover on the tumblr website The sign writer has a sense of humour and is a fan of TWD apparently. The photo showed the church's bulletin board which says "The end is near, keep the faith, we have Daryl Dixon". I think that is priceless and I'm going to guess that the priest there is Father Daryl Dixon. Or it's a photo carve up.


	80. Chapter 80

"Marion's a Dixon woman" said Meggo929 in her C50 review – so the little naughty bit at the end is all her fault.

Chapter 80

They pulled the truck up short of the camp by more than 500m, by looking through the scope Marion reported the scrambling in the camp; Andrea perched on top of a trailer with a rifle, T-Dog standing near the gate with the shotgun, Rick standing in the middle of the gates with his gun held in both hands.

"Don't scratch tha paint," ordered Daryl gruffly.

Marion shook her head with a grin _Dixons and their bloody trucks_.

Daryl had been rendered speechless when they had led him to the 1987 GMC Sierra _pickup, _both the inside and the outside immaculate as if it had been loved like it was a family member. A dual axel supported the elongated bed, one in which the Bonneville would be able to fit in with a little bit of room to spare. It had, literally, stopped Carol in her tracks as they had walked towards the church; Marion had walked a further few steps before realising and turning to see what had attracted her attention. "It's Daryl's truck," she had breathed. (1)

Marion had looked at the blue vehicle, a white trim around the wheels and rim of the tray. "Good thing he's rid of it then," she had snorted.

Carol had laughed at her but had walked towards it. "We could use this," she had said.

"Must we?" had breathed Marion to herself but had followed willingly. Then she saw what was inside the garage.

She slid off Merle's lap onto the ground with a thump, Dog leaping from Carol's lap onto the ground much more elegantly. She held out the crossbow to the side so that its outline was visible and then hitched a hip up onto the bonnet, anchoring herself against the bulbar. Dog leapt up and she perched him on her knees, _being very careful that his claws didn't touch the duco_, holding the bow above her head and slowly Daryl drove the truck forward. Rick stood down first, turning to the others: Andrea sat up and swung off the trailer and then T-Dog helped to open the gate so that they drove straight in.

Rick was grinning. "What have you got?" he demanded, admiring the pickup and then looking in the bed where the containers of fuel were stacked up.

"Sweet ride!" exclaimed T-Dog.

"Where did you get all this?" demanded Rick.

"Carol an' Marion found it," replied Daryl and Marion hid a smile at the tone of pride in his voice.

"It was parked in a driveway," nodded Carol, coming to stand next to him. "Whoever was packing it must have been disturbed," she said with a slight shudder. "We basically just emptied the garage of all the stuff and loaded it up."

It had been _slightly_ more difficult than that, Marion hid a grimace. But neither of the Dixon brothers needed to know that.

"Don't even know 'alf of what's in 'ere," added Daryl, looking over his shoulder.

"Well we can have a look as we unpack" said Rick.

The unpacking process took a while. The formula had come out at the same time as the passengers; Judith had already finished one bottle and was contentedly sleeping in her bouncer. Lori was occupied for quite a while with trying to get the babyseat connected into their car and Carl loaded a good proportion of the available boot space with other baby supplies. Cans and packets of food were distributed amongst the vehicles so that if, God forbid, anyone was to get separated everyone would still have some supplies. The camping lanterns, saucepans, matches and fuel cans were distributed similarly. The piles of clothes were roughly sorted into males and females and Carol was occupied ensuring that everyone had basic sets of underwear, shirts and shorts and then the jumpers, jeans and coats for the winter that would eventually arrive. Carl was not impressed with this process as he had to try on item after item and was fingered and prodded by his mother as she figured out what needed to be brought in or hemmed up. His complaints were brought up short when she reminded him tartly that he would look sillier when he tripped over pants that were too long for him.

Dog bounced along happily next to Merle as he recognised the tins that had been gathered specifically for him and just to keep him out of his way, Merle opened one for him. "Merle," chastised Marion. "You can't give him a _whole_ tin of that after being on fresh food for so long." She bent over and reached to retrieve the plate and there was a low growl. "I beg your pardon?" she exclaimed and Dog sat down immediately as he realised whose hand it had been. "That is very rude young man," Marion continued to scold and Dog lay down and rolled over, expressing his sincerest remorse for the misunderstanding. "There will be not more of _that_" stated Marion and Dog crawled to her feet, his tail sweeping the ground, and licked at her toes.

Beth giggled, her arms full of towels and blankets that she was distributing amongst the trailers. "He is so clever isn't he? I can almost hear him apologising," she said.

Marion smiled. "He is a sweety," she bent down and let him take a couple more bites from the rich beef stew. "I'm not sure that I would have been able to manage without him in those early days. Aside from his help with the geeks he gave me a sense of purpose. Plus he was the only company I had for a long time."

"Whoo hoo!" exclaimed T-Dog, holding two bottles aloft with a grin; Rick shaking his head in the background. "Time to celebrate!"

"Two bottles," snorted Daryl. "A whole bottle shop and you got _two_ bottles?"

"I was a bit busy saving your ass at the time," retorted T-Dog with spirit.

"Cain't git drunk off two bottles," muttered Daryl.

Merle sighed, feeling Marion's eyes on him. He stepped forward to one of the plastic boxes that they had unloaded earlier, its translucent green colour preventing its contents being identified. He flipped the lid off and looked at the bottles within the box. "'ere Darylina," he tossed a bottle to 'im. "Try tha 'ard stuff."

There was silence as the bounty within the box was taken in. "I told you – that pickup's like the tardis!" breathed Glen.

Rick insisted on at least four sober people – Herschel was almost a given and Beth offered to be his support; Lori was another automatic and Marion offered as well. There was almost sheer disbelief when Merle said he'd keep watch; Rick narrowed his eyes, his voice full of doubt. "All night Merle?"

Merle bridled up, mostly because the question came from Rick. "Yes all fuckin' night," he spat and turned away.

"Merle," Marion stopped him within a few metres. "The bet hardly applies anymore."

"Ya 'ankering after some chocolate sugar?" he teased. "Go on ahead – we cin set up Beth's i-pod wit' tha generator – ya cin dance for me."

She slapped him lightly across the chest, a slight tinge of red across her features. "I'm serious Merle. Carol won't be worried about taking watch if you want to have a drink."

Merle snorted. "I've bin t'is long sugar. I got it." He felt her eyes on him as he walked away and started to set up their tent.

Dinner was a cheerful affair, the two bottles brought by T-Dog having been set aside for the contents of Merle's box which had been shoved into a trough full of water to try and at least give an illusion of being chilled. There was good food, a secure location and the alcohol was enough to release the pent up tension within the group.

Daryl found Merle sometime after dinner, a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand, and he climbed the steps of the grandstand mostly steadily to plomp down next to him. Daryl took a drink; then offered the bottle. Merle shook his head and Daryl frowned. "She's on tha other side of tha camp brother – she won't see." He offered the bottle again.

Merle smiled sourly, his brother obviously thought him pussy whipped, but shook his head. "Nah brother. I gave it away." He paused for a moment. "I made a promise."

"Ya made a promise to a woman?" Daryl sounded sceptical.

A tight smile crossed Merle's face. "Not her." He paused again, longer this time, and when he did speak his voice was almost a whisper. "To God."

Daryl only avoided choking because the fluid hadn't reached his mouth. As it was some sloshed down his front as he turned suddenly to Merle; an incredulous look and the start of a laugh bubbling on his face.

Merle looked at him steadily and all trace of amusement vanished from his brother's face. He sighed. "Ya know when I said we stayed at Sylacauga?"

"Yeah," Daryl nodded slowly. "Ya said it snowed."

"We stayed at a church. Marion's idea o' course," Merle snorted, not seeing anything wrong with that statement – while it had been his suggestion, he had only suggested it because of her. "Slept in a fuckin priest's bed, before me and her were... We just slept." He took a deep breath. "We left there after Christmas, travelling north west like we planned. Set up a camp in a field, t'ere was no moon, didn't check tha perimeter properly," Merle bit his lip. "She came onto me... Dog growled but I was so 'ot, I wasn't payin' attention." Merle took another breath, conscious of how still Daryl had become, the bottle forgotten in his hand. "Tha geeks attacked us – she got bit man, not grazed, scratched – a big bloody bite right here. Ya've seen that scar on her arm? I cut t'rough it, cut 'er 'igher up too – almost bled her to death."

"You bled it out?" breathed Daryl.

"Nah," Merle shook his head and his brother looked at him sharply. "She got the fever."

Daryl hissed in a breath.

"I took her back to tha church – ta let 'er die," he continued, pausing for a moment. "I was so angry," he mused. "I fuckin' lost it – pulled t'ings off tha wall, knocked stuff over. Woulda killed anyt'ing t'at came in." He was silent again for a while, knowing that Daryl didn't need any more description to understand what he had been like. "She'd stuck with me," he explained. "She knew me warts 'n' all, knew all about Atlanta – and she weren't scared o' me. Hell – she faced me off. I almost raped her," he admitted and once again he saw Daryl look at him sharply. "I got inta me stash, overdid it, t'ought she was wit' me," he wasn't offering an excuse, just explaining it. "She coulda left, coulda cursed me for being a redneck hick. She did act'ally – whacked me ova tha 'ea wit' a stick, tied me ta a tree, punched me a good un," he grinned. "But she stuck wit' me – told me t'at she'd t'rown me stash." He was silent again. "I never 'ad anyone accept me like t'at – ya know?" There was an almost imperceptible nod. "And then God up an' gits 'er bit. So I cursed 'im, I swore at 'im – just like I did on tha roof. Then," he shrugged. "I found me stash. She'd 'idden it in 'er bag. 'ad it in case I needed it I suppose, t'en forgot 'bout it. So I offered it up. I promised God that if He saved her I'd stay clean – that I'd spend my life protecting her. O' course it's somet'ing I shoulda done for ya years ago."

Daryl tipped the bottle back and had a drink. Merle smiled sourly.

"Tha fever 'it 'er bad. She'd be shivering like she was in ice, t'en she'd burning up, t'en back again. I 'ad no fuckin' clue wha' ta do. So when she was cold I tried ta keep 'er warm, when she was 'ot I tried ta cool 'er down. Couple days she was like t'at. Tried to git up tha nerve ta put 'er down," he added dispassionately. "Couldn't do it."

There was silence for a bit.

"T'en she woke up."

"She's got tha cure," breathed Daryl.

Merle nodded.

"Ya should tell Rick," Daryl offered almost hesitantly.

"No," said Merle shortly.

"Then Herschel," suggested Daryl. "'e's tha closest thing we got ta a doctor."

Merle snorted. "Wha'? Ya reckon we just go about injectin' tha geeks and watch as t'ey turn back ta people? T'ere'd be serious chem'stry ta get a workable cure _and _ta see if it actually works."

"Jenner, at tha CDC; 'e said tha French were tha closest ta gettin' a cure," said Daryl after a pause. "Washington or Canada maybe?"

Merle was shaking his head, but there was no sarcasm in his voice. "She won't do it," he shrugged. "She's got no-one 'ere, anyone t'at she cared 'bout is tha ot'er side of tha world." Daryl's expression showed his doubt: Merle understood – Marion had integrated into the group so well that it was hard for Daryl to appreciate the anger that she still had for the people who had left her. Merle though understood, probably more than she realised. "She 'ad ta kill 'er family – 'er two kids and 'er husband. It weren't easy for 'er – she 'ad no skills, no real weapons t'en." Daryl winced. "Rescue came – tha whole town got evacuated. Except her. T'ey left 'er. All alone. She don't see t'at she owes 'em anyt'ing."

Daryl tipped the bottle back to his mouth and took another long draught. "Ya don't reckon she'll change 'er mind?"

"Maybe," Merle shrugged. "She is a woman after all."

Daryl snorted.

"And if she does," Merle looked straight at his brother. "I gotta go wit' 'er. Ya understand?"

Daryl nodded slowly.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Marion crept away from the grandstand, tears running down her face, her hand across her mouth to hold in the sobs. _It had seemed such a great idea at the time_ she thought ruefully. She had actually been stoked that she'd been able to follow Daryl without him being the wiser; she had crept underneath the seats of the grandstand, ready to scare the tripe out of both of them – just because she'd been able to – preferably when Daryl had a mouthful. But then Merle's words had frozen her. And she had continued to listen while he talked to his brother, keeping her hand on Dog's head to keep him quiet.

A lot of things suddenly made sense to her now. Merle's attitude at the church; the way he almost suffocated her with his protection early on until she had been ready to snap him; the absence of venom in his protests whenever she made him detour to a church that she saw on their travels; the number of times that they would bed down in a church or its grounds. _Was that all it was between them? A misguided sense of responsibility? Duty?_

She stopped next to a large tree and lowered herself to the ground. Dog came in close, putting his nose close to her face, licking once at the tears on her skin. She smiled despite herself and wiped them away, stroking his head. She felt cheapened somehow, she felt robbed. "I didn't ask for this," she sniffed and Dog looked up with a tilted head. "I don't want to be his burden." _I want him._

Dog whined a little and pushed into her again and she heaved a sigh. "Oh I know he _cares_ for me Dog. That he 'loves' me like..." _obviously not a sister_ said a tart voice and again she smiled a little. "Like a good friend. Someone he can rely on. And obviously he _wants_ me," her smile became more of a grin. She sighed. "Maybe Meatloaf was right Dog – two out of three ain't that bad." She grimaced _it was no-where near good enough but what were her alternatives? _

_Leave_ offered one voice _take Dog, take one of the trucks and get out by yourself. You were fine all that time at the Palace. Find somewhere that will send you home._

_Tell him_ said another. _Tell him – in real words that you know he'll understand – that you love him. Let him tell you what he feels._

_But can you live with the answer? _asked that first voice slightly slyly. _Would you really want it confirmed that all you are to him is his path to salvation? Once you _know _that – could you stay?_

Marion groaned, rolling her head back and looking through the branches of the trees to the night sky. She sat there for a while.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"Hey! Look what I found!" exclaimed Glen as Merle walked with Daryl back into the group.

Merle's eyes went around the camp, finally spotting Marion as she walked in from the opposite side, her hair wet and face red from what looked like a recent washing. Her eyes flicked over Merle and she gave him a slight smile.

Daryl groaned along with the rest of the group as they saw a guitar in Glen's hands.

"It was in your pickup," explained Glen, his face beaming, apparently talking to Daryl.

"Marion found it in the house," Carol explained from her spot on the ground, leaning against a chair. She had a glass of wine in her hand but sounded much more sober than Glen. She glanced up at Daryl and smiled. Daryl moved through and sat behind her, resting his hand on her shoulder before leaning back, Carol's head against his leg.

"Play it Glen – play it," called out T-Dog, an indication of how drunk he was.

"Do you play Marion?" asked Glen with a slightly hopeful tone.

Marion smiled as she leant up against one of the cars. "No" she shook her head, "I thought someone here might though," and her eyes flicked, very briefly, over Daryl. Merle saw Daryl's eyes narrow first at her and then at him – he smirked. Marion though had turned back to Glen. "Do you play Glen?"

"A little," nodded Glen and sat down with the instrument. He strummed awkwardly at the strings, which sounded off very badly, almost as if it had been deliberately put out of tune.

There were some winces around the camp; Merle noted that Daryl's teeth gritted and then watched Marion's eyes flick to Daryl, sparkling slightly. _One, two, three_ he counted, taking a drink of water from his canteen. Daryl moved so suddenly that he made Carol spill her wine. "'ere short round," he growled. "Ya goin' ta call all the fuckin' cats in tha district." Daryl took the instrument from Glen and played with the strings and knobs until he had a reasonable sound.

Everyone, including Carol, was looking at him with wide eyes. "What?" he growled. Ah took lessons as a kid."

"Ya a sneaky bitch" murmured Merle as he came up behind Marion and kissed her neck; the others busy with berating Daryl for keeping his talent a secret from them all this time. "I knew t'ere was a reason I married ya."

Marion offered a smile, but kept her head turned away from him so that he wouldn't see the shininess of her eyes.

The guitar strummed in a familiar upbeat melody and Merle straightened abruptly, finding that Daryl was looking at him keenly.

"Really?" exclaimed Andrea, happy and boisterous under the influence of several cocktails. "You can do that with a guitar? I thought you needed a fiddle?" (2)

"It's been a while brot'er," challenged Merle. "Ya sure yar up to it?"

In response Daryl moved his hands over the guitar, the intricate set of notes following perfectly in tune.

Marion looked up to him with a bemused smile. "Really? You're kidding right?"

Merle grinned down at her. "Nah. We used ta do it at tha local pub on a Sat'day night – git enough tips t'at we could 'ave a counter dinner."

"And what part did you do?" she asked as Daryl continued with the music.

Merle grinned and turned to catch Daryl's eye. The music changed, reverting back to the start of the song. Merle lowered his voice:

The devil went down to Georgia  
He was looking for a soul to steal  
He was in a bind  
'Cause he was way behind  
He was willing to make a deal

She grinned as she watched him... _perform_ was the only word for it, using his voice and body to make the story come to life as Daryl played. Her own toe was tapping, Carl was clapping and T-Dog jumped up and swept Andrea around in a badly co-ordinated jig. The song came to an end with a flourish and there was an overwhelming burst of applause. Daryl ducked his head a little but the showman Merle offered a flamboyant bow, before clapping his brother on the shoulder, Marion saw the grin that was exchanged; the years of understanding within them.

"What else can you play Daryl?" called out Glen.

Daryl glanced up at Merle again and started on another familiar song.

"Big wheels keep on turning  
Carry me home to see my kin  
Singing songs about the Southland  
I miss Alabama once again  
And I think it's a sin, yes"

The music continued the rest of the night, Daryl's 'pub' songs eventually running out: Maggie joining in with some sweet songs – Daryl didn't know the songs but he strummed a tune in accompaniment. T-Dog gave them a rap song with Andrea covering Carl's ears and Glen repeated several jingles from advertisements, which led to another discussion of the things that they missed the most.

"It's midnight people," Rick announced with some surprise, as his wife touched him on the shoulder; Marion walking with Beth and the hobbling Herschel that she'd roused for their watch. "Time for bed." He stood, swayed and caught Lori's offered arm. Once he was steadied he reached down and picked up his son, fallen asleep against the bench seat.

"I don't believe ya let Darylina 'ave t'at truck," muttered Merle as he followed her toward the tent, _their _tent, looking at the shiny paint.

"As if you would trade in the F350," she scoffed. "Regardless of how many scratches it has on it."

Merle had not been impressed that even being the second vehicle in had resulted in some damage to the paint job, more damage resulting from careless packing.

"Besides – the bike is all very good on a nice sunny day, but not in winter. Nor if it rains," she shrugged. "Daryl can put the bike on the back; take it down when he needs it. Plus, they have that many supplies now they need some more room."

_Not all the supplies were for the others_ he thought; he'd had fun choosing for her in that particular section of the shop. He zipped up the tent and she turned to him with a slight look of surprise – he took advantage of it and covered her mouth with his own, licking his tongue against her lip. She reacted immediately, tracking her hands up around his neck, pulling herself against him and opening her mouth to let him taste her. He was slightly taken aback by the intensity of her response but his blood roared in appreciation. He found the edge of her shirt and brought his hand up to cup her breast, his blood heating further as he felt her shiver and heard the slight noise from her throat.

There was a slight whine at the tent flap and Marion pulled away a little. "Where's Dog?" she said.

"Outside," he muttered, moving his mouth to her ear and nibbling gently.

"He's not going to like that," she told him wryly.

"Bad fuckin' luck," he growled and she gasped as his teeth grabbed that little bit harder and his fingers pinched her gently.

There was another whine at the tent flap and Marion giggled.

"Shut up Dog," snarled Merle in that general direction, turning back to Marion and lifting her shirt over her head. "Fuckin' lit'le peepin' tom," he said as he lowered his mouth to the soft curve swelling out of her bra.

There was a yip at the tent flap and Marion laughed. "Shut up!" snapped Merle at the tent flap, turning back to Marion and meeting her amused eyes. There was a definite bark this time and he sighed _if he wasn't careful he was going to get every nosy bastard over here._ He bent over and unzipped the tent a little – Dog dashed in, his tail wagging furiously and jumping up and down like he had been given a reprieve from a life sentence of solitude. "Sit tha fuck down!" ordered Merle and Dog obeyed, looking up with lolling tongue and thump thumping tail. "Fuckin' dog is a voyeuristic son of a bitch."

Marion laughed again, tracing her hands up under his shirt until her hands found his male nipples, which she teased briefly. "Performance anxiety issues Merle?"

It was some time later when Merle had finished showing her that he had no performance anxiety issues at all, and they lay together, Merle almost lazily circling the peak of her breast with a finger, admiring how the skin tightened and the rosy tip thrust up. Dog lay behind his knees, flat out on the ground like he was exhausted. Marion's nails were tracing a pattern on Merle's back, sending shivers up and down him with each revolution, staying within the pleasure range by a hairsbreadth. He leaned forward to follow his finger with his mouth then moved his mouth upwards near her collarbone and his pressure increased.

"Don't you leave a mark there Merle Dixon," her voice was suddenly sharp and the hand against the back of his neck stiffened.

Merle relaxed the pressure and looked up at her. "Ya mine."

Marion felt her heart jump a little bit, but her voice was tart. "I've been sleeping in your arms for a week – I don't think it is a concept that they find hard to grasp."

_Fuck he loved it when she talked like that_ thought Merle and moved a little to rise above her. She met his increasing heat with her own and pushed at him slightly so that he rolled over onto his back, smiling down at him briefly before lowering her mouth to his skin. _Sweet Jesus fuckin' Christ_.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"So the tent was alright then?" teased Carol as Marion sung to herself while they washed the dishes of the greasy meal that had been required to set some of the group back to rights.

Marion chuckled, feeling a slight blush come over her. "Is a little small," she admitted and saw Carol's eyebrows rise in amusement. She winced but didn't disabuse her of her assumption _she wasn't ready for the explanation of why a tent made her claustrophobic_.

"Where'd Merle go?" Carol asked next, looking around. Glen was still sitting with his head in his hands and Maggie rubbing his back, T-Dog was looking paler than any man of his heritage should and Andrea was looking distinctly uncertain. Rick was standing out of sheer force of will and trying to discuss with Daryl and Michonne the plans for the day. Herschel was stroking Dog and Beth and Carl were playing Monopoly again while Lori was feeding Judith.

"Shower," Marion replied, lifting her chin at one of the trailers.

As she spoke the door of the trailer all but slammed open, making most of the camp jump and turn towards it as a shirtless Merle pushed his way out; rubbing his stump over his head to dry his hair. She stared at him, her mouth actually falling open. _Bastard_.

Carol giggled and Rick's words stumbled a little; but he recovered and continued with his briefing. The hiccup though made Daryl frown and he turned around to look at his brother. Glen's mouth dropped open as he stared at Merle until Maggie gave him a bump, a large smile hidden by her hair and Beth covered her mouth to suppress the giggles. Carl frowned in confusion and looked at his mother for explanation. Andrea's brows rose and she turned with a wide smile towards Marion; a small smile crossed Michonne's face and Herschel had a sudden coughing fit.

Without his shirt on Merle's muscles were on full display, lean and tight after all the physical work that the new world enforced on him plus the additional work he did to ensure that he was conditioned to manage whatever he needed to. The scars that criss crossed his torso were clearly visible, as was the large purple bruise just above his right nipple.

"Hell Sherwood," Daryl shook his head and looked directly at her, the smirk and glint in the blue eyes a haunting echo of his brother's.

Marion blushed but lifted her chin defiantly and his smirk almost teased into a grin before he turned to what Rick was trying to say for the third time.

Marion turned narrowed eyes onto Merle; his expression was totally unrepentant and somewhat satisfied. Despite herself she smiled, knowing that he had effectively just announced that she was his better than any brand of his on her skin would have. _And so that would have to be enough _she decided. _She would love him and she would accept that he needed her, that he wanted her but that his love for her would never be quite what she wanted. They were living in a zombie apocalypse after all._

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) It's not, but there was one on Google images which looked close and I sort of expanded a little. Not quite as special as Limaro was expecting!

(2) There are guitar versions on you-tube – but it may take a while for you to find, the ones I found after doing this chapter weren't the ones I found when I put the original onto my i-tunes


	81. Chapter 81

"Are we there yet?"

"Almost, almost," she soothed. "There is a bit of a rough patch coming up though. You might need to hang on tight."

Chapter 81

Marion held up the bottle of water and Carol smiled a little wanly as she took it from her, sipping uncertainly from it. The camp was quiet, as normal they were the first two up after the Dixon brothers – who had gone on a hunt.

The fortnight (1) since the 'shopping trip' had been an arduous time. The trailers made travel slow: they were difficult to manoeuvre through traffic snarls as zig zagging around cars just wasn't an option; they needed to be babied across the potholes that were bordering on monstrous after more than 12 months of no maintenance and turning them around was nigh on an impossible task on most of the small roads they tried to travel on. Merle's patience with towing the trailer was starting to wear thin, the initial pride in the way his truck towed it paling at the slow pace required to get them up through the mountain passes in southern Tennessee. However as one of those able to hotwire a car Merle was often out ahead of the group, travelling with Daryl on the Bonneville if the group was still moving, or out with Marion if the group was stationary – which sometimes took a little bit longer than it should. This, coupled with the hunting that he and his brother did, had given him enough breathing room that he hadn't, yet, allowed his simmering temper to explode –Rick having being able to ignore his occasional snide remark and Andrea's retaliation only amusing him. Herschel had struck up a curious friendship with him, there being something under the calm nature of the vet which connected with both of the Dixon brothers and he would often provide a distraction when he thought one was necessary and Carl also managed to occupy some of Merle's time. Whether because he knew his mother wasn't all that comfortable with his association or due a natural gravitation towards the dangerous nature of the Dixons, Carl also gravitated to them; while he wasn't yet as comfortable around Merle as he was Daryl, the teenager wasn't afraid of Merle anymore or at least refused to show it – and Merle respected that. They had even allowed him to go out hunting with them more than once, which as Carol pointed out, obviously meant that they didn't think he was a total klutz.

Everyone else loved the trailers – hot meals were still possible even in the wettest weather, and it had arrived with a vengeance; there was a sense of security for those who slept inside them, one of Herschel's remarks about how much easier it was for him to get up in the morning from a bunk rather than something on the ground being enough, Marion suspected, to prevent Merle flat out refusing to tow the trailer further; and Carol was even able to make one of the washing machines work after a couple of days driving had charged the trailer's battery. Judith too was enjoying the freedom that the trailer provided, being able to sit up and try to crawl even when they were driving; and regardless of what they liked people to think, Marion could see a Dixon around each of Judith's little fingers. There had been the bunny rabbit, the baby porcupine, the birds nest and even a pine cone brought back for her entertainment – as well as a number of toys picked up from abandoned cars.

There were geeks about still, sometimes in big glitches, other times just stragglers. But with the group the size it was, and as proficient with weapons as it was, it just wasn't as bad as before. Where they could, the geeks were simply avoided. Where they couldn't be, the geeks were taken out – long range by the crossbows or rifles, or up close and personal by sword, knife and machete. Guns were avoided as much as possible, but even with the supplies that Merle had finally and grudgingly shared from his bag (it having been a bit hard to hide after the emptying of the truck) there was a shortage of ammunition. The GPS in one of the trailers had, after being charged, proved that the satellites were still whizzing around in the sky and directed them up a winding road to the nearest ammunition shop. There would be a raid in that direction later in the day.

They had stopped the trailers in the middle of the road, on an outside bend where there had been some effort to clear some trees and set up a picnic area so that tourists could admire the scenery. The ground dived off below the lookout and rose up sharply on the other side of the road. Somewhere in the distance they could hear a waterfall. The countryside was beautiful, and in the crisp morning air, before the heat of the day arrived, everything spoke of promise.

A strange sense of comfort had been attained.

"Sorry about that," Carol apologised. "Must have been that skunk last night."

Marion looked at her companion keenly, her mouth opened but she shut it again and settled for a nod. Fresh meat was still a delicacy; they took what their hunters could get. There was game about as well as some of the abandoned livestock, but the latter unfortunately had a way of attracting geeks. There had been evidence of other survivors – and with a convoy as large as theirs it was impossible to go un-noticed, but so far none had openly approached them. Marion had a suspicion that the two Dixon men, both of whom had seemed to find ways of attaching even more weapons to their person, might have had something to do with that.

Carol moved over to the fire, starting up the regular routine of organising breakfast – a large one today to use the last of the meat before it spoiled and the accumulated batch of Penny's eggs. She pulled out the large hunk of meat and put the knife to it – abruptly she dropped the utensil and sat back, covering her mouth.

"Oh dear," chuckled Marion. "You won't be able to hide _that_ one."

Carol smiled in relief as Marion took the knife from her, but suddenly looked up, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Marion grinned. "Oh please."

Carol paled even further, her eyes widening in shock. "How do you know?" she gasped. "That's the first time I've been sick."

"Honey – being sick is not the first sign," snorted Marion. "Some lucky women go through their entire time without one throw up – although," she frowned. "Sometimes that is worse."

"So how?" Carol seemed genuinely puzzled. "Does anyone else know? Merle doesn't..." sheer horror froze her words.

Marion chuckled again. "No – not yet. Don't underestimate his powers of observation though," she warned. "You'd be surprised at what he does notice. No – it was Judith. When Andrea can settle a baby that you can't, I started to get suspicious. She must be able to smell the milk on you."

Carol groaned and sunk her head in her hands. "Has anyone else noticed?"

"I don't think so," Marion reassured her. "Although I wouldn't put money on Herschel – he watches a lot but doesn't say anything unless he thinks it's needed. But you start throwing up a lot and even Andrea'll figure out something is wrong." She was silent for a few minutes, glancing up at Carol who sat and stared at the fire. "You have to tell him before then Carol. If he figures it out by himself, his insecurity complex will kill him."

"How do I tell him?" moaned Carol. "I _told _him we were safe – that I couldn't have children. That I was too old."

Marion snorted. "You're not too old until nature makes you." She studied the other woman's face. "You didn't think you could conceive?"

"Sophia was such a struggle," whispered Carol. "Ed always used to say that I was a barren bitch."

"Well I doubt you really needed more proof about what a useless arsewipe he was," Marion said venomously, "but here it is." She stood up and sat down next to Carol, wrapping her hand around her shoulders.

"How do I carry a baby in this world Marion? I'm 44 for goodness sake. What if I lose it? What if I do carry it but I can't give birth?" she whispered and Marion heard the longing for this child in her voice.

"You start to take care of yourself first," she stated. "You eat properly, you don't work yourself too hard, you rest when you could be doing laundry." She paused. "You prepare yourself for any eventuality. You do some of those absurd pregnancy exercises to try and keep the baby in the right spot. You talk to Herschel – hell you could even grab a geek and make him practice his caesarean technique. But you do not dwell on it – you stay positive. And if it is not meant to be, then you swear and curse, you ball your eyes out, you throw things, you curl up in a little ball and wish that you could just die. And you hold onto Daryl and you let him hold onto you."

"I'm scared," admitted Carol. "What if he's not happy about it? What if he doesn't want us?"

"Dixons have a strong sense of responsibility," Marion soothed. "This baby is a Dixon – Daryl won't run from that. Although," she said in a reflective tone, "perhaps choose a nice soft place to tell him – he might need to sit down suddenly." She paused. "Or fall down."

Carol giggled despite herself, but then her mood sunk again. "I don't want him just to hang around because of the baby Marion. I want him to want me."

Marion sighed, she had nothing for that and she gave her friend a squeeze. "Nothing ever looks good when you've just seen the backside of your dinner," she rallied. "I think there's a medical centre in the same complex as the weapons store," said Marion with an inward grin _definition of irony? _ "We'll ask Maggie to get you some ginger tablets, some pregnancy vitamins – she can keep this under her hat. Things will look better when you're feeling better."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"She ain't right," sighed Merle. "There's something wrong with her."

Daryl looked over to him, both of them sweating heavily in the early morning sun. The heat was oppressive, wrapped around them like a wet towel in a sauna. They had been tracking what looked like a herd of cattle, there was no difficulty in following the tracks but the cattle had no regard for the thorns and at one stage had been spooked by a bear and her cubs. The temptation had been there, but in the heat it was easy to assess the risk of a new fur coat as too high for the benefit so they had stuck with the cattle – which had turned up a ravine and led them on quite a trek. They now dragged a portion each of a young bull from their shoulders, a rough field dressing having removed the weightier bits of the animal so that they could actually move the carcass. They had made it to the road, several miles from where the vehicles were, and almost collapsed, stubborn Dixon pride being the only thing that kept them upright but both happy to have a break and a drink.

"She seems fine ta me," offered Daryl.

Merle shook his head. "She's off man – somet'in' 'as upset 'er."

"She ain't..." Daryl winced a little, "ya know..."

Merle looked at his brother with an amused affection. _Damn pussy been screwing a woman for months and he can't even talk about her monthly periods?_ "Nah – been an' gone man. Besides – it started b'fore t'at."

Daryl snorted and again Merle understood his point. Having spent a month with the group he had been witness to the different reactions from the group's women through what Glen impressively (and only in male company) called the Alignment of Doom (2) – the few days before _all_ the women, except Marion, got her periods. Andrea and Lori, being the most high maintenance bitches were the most irrational but they had directed most of their shit at each other, Rick and Carl. Maggie had become even more ballsy than normal, although Merle suspected that Glen was happy to put up with it because she felt guilty afterwards and showed her contrition so ... frequently. Carol and Beth just got teary; Merle had copped several slaps over the top of his head because he apparently said something insensitive which set young Beth off. Michonne – well she just became more Michonne-like; Merle made sure that he didn't piss her off.

"Nah," repeated Merle. "Somet'in's worryin' 'er."

"So ask her," shrugged Daryl.

"I 'ave," he replied and smirked at the look of surprise that his brother sent him. "She said 'not'in''."

"So maybe it _is_ nothing," shrugged Daryl, his subtext about Merle's skills in reading women in his tone. "Sherwood don't lie."

"Except when she thinks it's better for you," groused Merle darkly. He was silent for a while then swore. "At what point did her happiness become so fuckin' indispensible ta me?"

Daryl shook his head. "Ah dunno. Ya just wake up one mornin' and find that they're under ya fuckin' skin an' ya like it." His voice dropped a little. "That ya breathe only ta make sure that they're safe, that they don't go without, that they're happy." He paused. "Carol tells me it's called love."

Merle looked over at him sharply, taking in the dropped head, the way he was worrying at his fingers. "Did ya say it back?" Daryl turned an incredulous look to him and he snorted. "Figures," he muttered. "Neither did I."

"She said it?" demanded Daryl.

"I t'ink so," nodded Merle.

"Think so," repeated Daryl scornfully. "Ah got it bald and uncoated – straight out, all honey voiced."

Merle winced in sympathy.

"She ain't said nothin' since though," Daryl added, but he didn't sound happy about that either.

"Pa fucked us ova in more ways t'an one," observed Merle and Daryl nodded slowly.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"I'm too old for that," stated Carl, but his eyes refuted his words, watching Beth as she squealed when she found a chocolate on the top of a tyre.

"Then get them for your mother!" urged Lori from the door of one of the trailers, the never-ending washing required for a baby having occupied most of her morning.

"Never mind Carl," reassured Andrea, lifting up one of their storage containers. "That's just means there's more for me!"

The boy struggled, Marion could see him trying to hold onto his hard fought manly dignity, but finally the little boy inside won out and he ran forward, opening the lids of saucepans and exclaiming as he found a chocolate.

Marion had been a bit remorseful when she realised that she had missed Easter, even presuming that it was late in April there was no doubt that it had passed. But after Merle had opened up the container full of alcohol to the camp she felt a bit guilty about the box of chocolate, which she had in truth forgotten about because she had buried it deep in the cab to try and protect them from the heat. There wasn't that many left, they had been used fairly extensively for trading before they had met up with the group but talking to Maggie (discreetly) about things that pregnant women needed had reminded her of them. She had segregated some in case Maggie wasn't able to find any and then decided to hide some for Carl and Beth to find in a sort of Easter Hunt event. Andrea, who had been left behind from the raiding party because of being on the late night shift, had heard of it and decided to join in. Michonne, also remaining behind due to her shift, was standing by impassively next to Herschel and Marion resolved to seek her help in separating Andrea from some of the chocolates later on.

"Snake!" Andrea's scream ripped through the camp and she threw herself away from the woodpile. Michonne drew her katana and stalked forward; pushing at the pile of sticks where Andrea was pointing.

The snake darted out, its pale, mottled skin almost camouflaged against the browning grass. Michonne's blade swung and struck; it missed and the snake disappeared under another small pile of twigs.

"Beth!" called Herschel. "Carl, come here." He levered himself to his feet. "That was a copperhead."

"Just let it go," suggested Marion, never the less reaching for her bow, "if we all stand on this side..."

But the snake took the options out of their hands even before she had finished speaking. Finding the pile of twigs it was under too small it jigged back the way it had come. It hissed at the two figures in front of it and despite herself Michonne took a step backwards, stumbling into Andrea. She righted herself and swung her sword again, but the snake was again too quick for her and it wriggled out of the way. Marion and Carol froze as it came towards them; it rose up; ready to defend itself. Then its glassy eyes latched onto something to its only free side, something at its level, something small and radiating warmth.

"No!" screamed Lori, hitting the ground running as the snake launched itself at where Judith was lying, kicking her feet in the sun.

Carol lunged forward, reaching down and grabbing at the baby and putting her own hands in the way of the snake. Herschel threw his crutch in front of the snake – hoping to divert it.

Dog also launched forward, meeting the snake in midair and latching his sharp teeth around its body. The snake hissed and twisted, there was a yelp and a growl and then it was free – Michonne swung and it was carved into two.

"Dog!" screamed Marion, dropping her bow and darting forward to where he was standing; a little unsteadily. She fell to her knees next to him – her heart went cold as she saw the blood high up on his leg. Her fingers trembled a little as she pushed aside the hair – two clear puncture marks were visible, slowly oozing blood. "Oh Dog," she whispered, closing her eyes as he twisted and licked her face. His back legs shuddered and collapsed suddenly. "Herschel?" she pleaded, looking up at the vet desperately; supporting Dog around his shoulders.

"It was a Copperhead Marion," Herschel shook his head, levering himself over to her slowly. "The poison will stop his blood coagulating, his internal organs will start to bleed, blood will come out of his nose, his eyes – there's nothing I can do for him without an antidote."

Marion nodded, her eyes shimmering but her jaw clenched, even as Dog's front legs collapsed and she lowered him to the ground, stroking him with her left hand. She reached her right hand back to her hip, dragging out her blade. "Where?" she said quietly. There was silence, Judith's wails subsiding within the security of her mother's arms and she looked up. The man held out his hand but she shook her head once, her eyes full of determination.

Lori turned Carl away, the boy crying into her chest, Judith whimpering. Carol covered her mouth with her hand, pulling a sobbing Beth into her arms and Andrea turned her head behind Michonne's shoulders.

Herschel looked into her eyes and nodded, leaning down and indicated a spot underneath Dog's front leg. "Smooth and quick."

Marion nodded and the vet straightened, moving back slightly. Marion bent down, placing her forehead against Dog's, positioning the tip of the blade against the spot that Herschel had pointed out. Dog thumped his tail weakly, his chest rising rapidly. "My brave little boy – you remember Rachel? Jenny? Ben?" She sniffed and swallowed, trying to maintain control of her voice. "They'll be waiting for you. You look after them now, just after you looked after me, you hear me?" She reached forward and kissed his head. "That's your job from now on."

His tail thump thumped in response to her words.

She drove the blade into his heart with one smooth motion.

His tail fell to the ground.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

(1) Yes it is a perfectly good word!

(2) Not mine. Little drabble by Shipperwolf to expand on Glen's comment of Season 2in the RV.


	82. Chapter 82

This is, effectively, the end of the story of how Merle found his brother.

Chapter 82

T-Dog's grin was slightly strained as they dragged the beast around the bend towards one of the guard vehicles. He came around the bonnet and reached out for Merle's strap, "You want a hand Merle?"

Merle stared at him _fuckin ironic prick_, but swallowed his initial retort as T-Dog realised just what it was he'd asked and paled. Merle shook his head "I got it – no point more t'an tha two o' us gittin' all covered in shit."

T-Dog stopped, his hand held out ineffectually, his mouth opened. But he closed his mouth without saying anything and shook his head, taking up his position at the vehicle again but following them with his eyes.

Merle met Daryl's eyes briefly, but only saw as much confusion as he felt. He shook his head briefly then looked up, seeing Rick walking back from the other guard vehicle with some intent in his stride. Merle ignored him; he was tired and he was filthy – not that that really worried him all that much, but dried blood would harden and make him itchy so he really didn't feel like having Officer Friendly chew him out for no real reason. At least not before he'd cleaned up a little bit and seen Marion – then maybe he'd feel up for it.

Beth walked past them; her eyes rimmed with red and offered him a tremulous smile. _What tha fuck? _he thought to himself, his eyes narrowing as he looked for Carl – the most likely culprit. He found him sitting with his mother and sister over the far side of the camp, Lori talking intently to him and he felt a moment of sympathy. It passed though – he liked young Beth and instead he felt an urge to smack the boy over the back of the head for making her cry. _Or let Marion give him another lecture_ he thought with a smirk.

At the thought of Marion he looked around, a slight frown between his eyes. _Dog would normally be making a nuisance of himself by now. _He saw Herschel, pushing himself up off a chair, he saw Michonne and Andrea standing on the other side of the camp and looking at them, he saw Glen and Maggie, but he couldn't see Marion – or Carol. He relaxed slightly, knowing that the two women had become close and despite his and Daryl's misgivings they were prone to going off by themselves to gather firewood, berries or mushrooms. Both of them would be armed, Marion with her bow and sword (as well as the knife and at least one handgun) and Carol with her rifle (as well as a knife and at least one handgun). _Plus Dog was always with them_. He'd go looking for them after he'd had a shower – help them bring back whatever it was that they'd found.

Daryl came to a stop next to him and he sighed _shower would have to wait until they'd finished butchering the beast properly._ He threw the straps of the harness over his shoulders and stretched out the kinks. As he turned to look for the best spot to hang the portions of beast he saw Carol come out of one of the trailers. She saw them and her step hitched, as he watched her bottom lip shuddered, but it firmed up and she walked over towards them, straight into Daryl's arms regardless of dirt, sweat and blood. He smirked slightly as Daryl's arms closed around her with barely a hesitation, but turned away, leaving them to their privacy.

_Carol knows better than that_ said an inner voice with a warning tone. _Where's Marion?_

"What's wrong?" he heard Daryl's voice.

"Nothing," she whispered, then sniffed.

"Yer cryin' – somethin's wrong," quirked back Daryl, a slight teasing tone.

"It's just so sad," said Carol and sighed, pulling away from Daryl's embrace and looking at Merle, who saw her face out of his peripheral vision. "Dog died."

"What?" she suddenly had all of Merle's attention; he turned to her abruptly.

"He got bit by a snake," Carol sniffed again. "Marion had to..." she swallowed, her eyes shimmering.

"Where is she?" demanded Merle, reaching out to grab her arm as if the contact would make her focus.

Carol blinked. "She went to your tent... after burying him." The last words were said to Merle's retreating back as he strode through the camp.

"Merle," cautioned Herschel, reaching out. "She needs..."

Merle ripped his arm from the man's grip. "Marion!" he yelled, almost reefing the zip off the tent fabric. "Fuck!" he swore at finding it empty, the back door of the tent still open. He straightened "Marion!" he yelled louder.

"Merle," cautioned Rick, having accelerated to a run to get into the camp.

"Where the fuck is she Officer Friendly?" snarled Merle in his face. Daryl grabbed him around the shoulders and tried to pull him away.

"She probably just needed some air," soothed Herschel. "I think she was a little overwhelmed when everyone came back."

"Marion!" yelled Merle again, his voice bouncing off the rocks and echoing into the valley behind them.

"Merle! You're going to call every walker..." started Rick.

"If somet'in' 'as 'appened ta 'er," Merle almost spat in his face. "I'm gonna..."

"Why would something happen to her?" demanded Carol, close to his face.

Merle yanked away from Daryl's arms and made his way to the back of the tent, his eyes down.

"What's goin' on brother?" Daryl asked quietly, the others having obeyed his orders and backed away.

"T'at fuckin' mutt was tha last t'ing she had linkin' 'er ta 'er family Daryl," he replied, spotting the slight marks in the ground from where she'd come out of the tent unseen and walked into the trees. "Without 'im..." words failed him, he didn't know what she'd do. The fact that she wasn't there waiting for him, the funny way that she'd been acting, the fact that she'd left the crossbow and the sword in the tent – his heart went cold.

They moved quickly through the trees, finding the deer track that she went to and tearing down in at an unsafe pace, grabbing the trees to help them on the zig zag route it took. He heard the water after a few minutes of running – it was getting closer and closer with every step. He burst out into a small clearing where the creek meandered over some flat rocks before disappearing over the edge. The view was magnificent, the Tennessee valley in all its spring/summer glory with green leaves and wildflowers. But he wasn't interested in the view; he was focused on the edge, the lip of the waterfall.

Where Marion stood.

He felt and heard Daryl come to a skidding stop behind him, heard the hiss of breath as he saw the same thing that Merle did. Heard the "Ah'll go 'round," and gave a slight nod but kept his eyes on the woman in front of him.

She gave no sign of knowing that he was there _Dog would have told her_ he thought and a sharp pain of grief arose from the thought; but he buried it for the moment.

"Marion," he called, stepping carefully into the clearing. "Come away from tha edge sugar."

She glanced over at him. Her face was strangely still, there was evidence of her tears on her face but there was no grief now. Just... just emptiness. She gave him a wry smile. "Please Merle – I'm Catholic. It would be a deadly sin for me to kill myself – I'd end up in the fiery pits of hell if I killed myself." She snorted. "As if that's a deterrent after this hell."

He relaxed slightly and took a few more steps towards her.

"Of course," she mused, kicking at the moss covered rocks at her feet. "If I was to fall..."

Merle froze again, noting out of the corner of his eye Daryl cross the creek a way upstream and dart into the trees on the other side.

"Marion," he started. "I know what 'e was ta ya, ok. I know 'e was more t'an just a dog ta ya. 'e was tha last link ya 'ad ta ya family – ta ya kids and Ben."

She looked up to him again, tears in her eyes. "He was my strength Merle. In those early days when I had nothing else to live for – when I thought I was alone for ever – he was there." She sniffed, a couple of tears overflowing. "He was so brave Merle – he saved Judith."

"I know," he nodded and took a careful step towards her. He still wasn't close enough to grab her, if she moved the wrong way, _if she slipped_, he wouldn't reach her. "But you're not alone anymore sugar."

She looked out to the valley again. "I killed Rachel with a saucepan," she said conversationally. _Another step _"Four times I had to hit her. Well three really – one blow just broke her wrists. Jenny I killed with a hair dryer," she frowned _another step_. "It was more than four times – it was one of those little things that are attached to the wall, not enough weight in it to be effective. I _should_ have used the toothbrush – right through the eye." She sighed _another step_. "Of course everything is easy with hindsight. Ben I killed with a knife," she ended matter of factly. She turned to him and blinked to find him that much closer. "The National Guard Sergeant – he was going to kill me. Didn't believe me when I said I wasn't bitten or scratched, suppose I can't really blame him," she added reflectively and turned back to the valley again. _Another step_. "It was the Lieutenant who stopped him. Told me that he was going to take me out of that bloody place. Then told me that because there was the wrong flag on my passport that I wasn't allowed to be evacuated. It wasn't his fault," her tone changed from venomous to reflective again. "Those were his orders and he had to follow them. He did the best for me that he could."

_Another step – almost in reach._

"It's not their fault either," she turned to him abruptly and he all but lunged at her, catching his reaction in time. "I've been so angry for so long at the people who left me there – some nameless suit somewhere in the establishment that is long past gone. I've been selfish. I can't sit on this – what if the cure for the disease _is_ in my blood? What if they can synthesise something that will be a vaccine for the disease we carry in our blood – an antidote for those that get bitten." She smiled somewhat sadly at him and stepped over the creek, touching his arm gently. "I have to go."

"T'en we'll go," he said, wrapping his hand firmly around her arm.

"No," she shook her head.

"I'm comin' wit' ya sugar," he frowned.

"No," she shook her head and smiled sadly again. "Your brother is here. You two shouldn't be separated again, you need each other. More than you need me."

Merle's brows quirked a little at the bitterness in her tone. "Ya jealous o' my lit'le brot'er sugar?"

"No!" she fired back and his eyes twinkled. "Well yes – but not like that." Now he was just plain confused – it showed and she launched into speech again. "I know you love him and you should. He is a part of you; he has been with you through hardships that a hoighty toighty bitch like me simply cannot comprehend. He should always have a place in your heart and I would never _ever_ resent that. I just," her voice dropped to a whisper. "I just sort of hoped that there was a little bit of room for me in there as well."

Merle felt his heart stop beating for a moment. "T'ere is sugar," he said gruffly. "T'at's why I'm comin' wit' ya."

"No Merle," she shook her head. "You shouldn't make bargains with God," she said it slightly bitterly, snorting slightly as she saw his eyes widen. "I heard you Merle; I heard what you told Daryl." She paused. "Goodness knows how it worked; we couldn't have come from any further apart in the world if we tried. Well, I suppose I could have been black," she added wryly. "It's not like we would have looked at each other before this whole thing happened."

He smirked inwardly _hell yes he would have looked, even with two kids and a husband in tow that rack would have caught his attention. Probably would have said something too. _

"I have... loved having you as a _travelling companion_," she continued with a smile that was hanging on by a thread. "But I refuse to let you throw away your life on a silly promise that you did in the heat of the moment."

If he couldn't have heard the emotion in her voice he may have been worried. But her voice almost trembled; he could feel the stress through his hand, through hers. And there was no uncertainty anymore.

"Ya reckon t'at's why I'm 'ere," he smiled down at her softly. "Ask yar fourth question woman."

"I can't," she admitted, ducking her head, the trembling increasing. "I never earnt the right to. I was so angry when I found those drugs; I sort of cheated. I got the bottle, I put a little bit in your mouth and then I tipped the rest out on the grass. You never drank any alcohol."

Merle put his head back and laughed. "Oh I love you Marion Arnold," he grinned down as she looked up in shock at him. "I prob'bly shouldn't. I'm too old for ya, yar too smart for me, too polite, too refined – you're everything that I never will be. I'm just a dumb redneck hick," he quieted. "But I'm all yours – if ya'll 'ave me."

She looked up at him, her lower lip quivering just a little, her eyes swimming. "Really?"

He nodded "Really really."

"Oh Merle," she gasped and launched herself into him, kissing him fiercely. "I love you too," she murmured _just to make it official. _Then she pulled away a little, her arms still looped around the back of his neck, his around her waist. "But," she blinked. "What about your brother? You just found him."

Merle shrugged. "I t'ought 'e'd need me. But 'e's grown, betta t'an me, betta t'an Pa" pride suffused his voice, then he snorted. "'ell maybe 'e'd grown ages ago an' I was too tweaked ta notice. 'e doesn't need me." He met her eyes, searching his. "'e's me brother – 'e'll always be me kin. But 'e can look after 'imself."

A flash of indignation sparkled in her eyes, she puffed up a little. "What – and I can't?" she demanded.

"Maybe," he smiled and waited until her indignation rose to almost boiling point. "But I can't live without ya."

Her mouth dropped open for a moment, then her eyes softened. She looked up at her hand, where the cheap copper ring was staining her finger with green. She looked up at him.

Slowly he reached up, taking her hand in his – it fit almost entirely within his palm. The ring resisted his efforts a little, but she twisted her hand a bit and it was suddenly heavy in his hand.

"I don't know wha' we 'ave 'head of us suga, wha' t'is fuckin' world is goin' ta t'row at us – but if I 'ave ta travel it, I want ta travel it wit' ya."

She smiled up at him and watched as he, somewhat shakily, placed the ring on her left hand. Then he reached forward, cupping her face with his hand and pressed his lips against hers. It was a simple kiss; there was no heat behind it, no physical desire. But it was the closest two hearts, two souls, could come to touching.

They stayed like that for quite a while.

Then she pulled away, her face wrinkled slightly. "Bloody hell Merle you stink."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

The night was entirely still when they moved. "I don't want ya ta go brother," had said Daryl in an undertone earlier in the night after the fuss of Marion returning with Merle had settled down, Daryl himself arriving several minutes later. "But if ya are, then go after midnight. I convinced Rick that Carol an' me want ta sleep at tha same time – we 'ave watch tanight."

They hadn't told anyone of their plans to go; it was only after Daryl's words that Merle realised that his brother must have heard the whole exchange. Funnily, that didn't worry him. _Probably shadowed them back to make sure they got back safely_ he thought with a smile. He suspected that Herschel knew, but the man hadn't said anything so Merle took that as acceptance and had given the man a nod as he had headed off to bed.

Daryl had surreptitiously unhitched the trailer from Merle's truck earlier; Merle got on one side and Daryl on the other and they pushed it out of camp, grimacing at the sound of every twig that snapped beneath the wheels, waiting for someone, _something even_ to come out of the trees at them. They rolled it onto the road and down the hill, stopping it the other side of the guard vehicle where Daryl was stationed.

Merle pulled the handbrake on, looking up to the other end of the road where Marion had said goodbye to Carol and was now walking down to him – he could almost see an outline of where the white ball of fluff should be bouncing and he sniffed _he was going to miss the furrball_. His _sister woman_ had already given him a hug and a kiss on the cheek when she had caught him alone in the trailer earlier in the night. He hadn't had any words for her, _hell he had hardly mastered talking to one woman_ but he had pulled her in a tight hug and she had seemed to understand.

"'ere," Daryl's gruff voice brought him out of his thoughts. "They're Rick's – basically antiques – don't work with any others 'cept its pair." He handed over a walky talky. "Ah'll keep tha other charged and on ev'ry night from dusk 'til midnight. They got a shitty range – but when ya finished doin' ya stuff – ya come an' find us – ya 'ear?"

Merle took it and nodded, putting it in the truck as Marion came around the back. "Stay safe lit'le brot'er – ya keep t'at lit'le sister woman o' mine safe too. When I next see ya, ya betta 'ave made an 'onest woman out of 'er – t'at's wha' Mama woulda wanted." He looked at his brother, knowing that despite what they wanted that they never may see one another again. That perhaps their one reunion after Atlanta was their one and only little miracle.

"Bloody Dixons," muttered Marion and stepped in, standing up on tiptoes to throw her arms around Daryl's neck and kiss him on the cheek. "He loves you you know. Always has. And he is so very very proud of you" she whispered in his ear.

"Ah know," muttered Daryl in her ear, his initial shock at full body contact having receded so that he could wrap his arms around her and give her a squeeze. "Ah always 'ave. Ya watch over tha dumb redneck – stop 'im gitting inta trouble."

"With everything I have," she nodded and pulled away from him, her eyes shimmering.

Merle looked at his brother who was squinting to control the sudden brightness in his eyes as she walked around to her side of the truck. "It's just you an' me baby brot'er," he said gruffly, clasping his hand to Daryl's cheek. "It always was – it always will be. It's just," he lifted his eyes to the woman in the truck, "t'ere's a bit more ta ya an' me now." He moved his hand suddenly, dragging Daryl close to him for a brief and hard hug. "Watch yaself baby brot'er," he muttered and pressed his lips briefly to the side of his head. Then he pulled away and sat in the car, looking once more at the eyes that were a mirror image of his own before turning towards the road in front of him.

He didn't look back.

Marion moved over _into Dog's spot_ and tucked up against him, he reached his stump around her and pulled her close then released the handbrake. They would coast for a bit, as far as they could before the steering locked, so that the noise of the truck wouldn't wake the rest of the camp then head back a little south before turning east. Washington first – then Canada if that didn't work.

Marion cuddled up to Merle, looking in his side mirror and watching as Daryl stood there for a while, then turned and walked back towards where Carol was stationed. The road curved and she lost sight of him _her brother_ _and his family_ she smiled a little.

"I held out for the words for so long Carol," she had said when she had hugged Carol goodbye. "Almost killed me. And there was no need," she had said. "Everything he does tells me he loves me. Daryl loves you Carol. Trust him – in this as much as everything else."

"Wha' ya grinnin' 'bout woman?" he mumbled.

"Nothing," she replied. "I'll tell you later."

And he was happy with that.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

A little observance to "Down in the Willow Garden" by Praxid in the latter end of this chapter. I'm not going to reference directly because it was a special moment for me when I read the original and I don't want to spoil the sweetness of your own realisation.

I wasn't comfortable with the thought that Marion's 'jealousy' didn't fit her – I hope you can see the shades of grey that I was trying to convey.


	83. Epilogue

This is purely fluff – just because I like my stories tied up with a neat bow. Preferably with a happy ending.

I want to thank every one of you that has travelled with me to this point, those who have followed, those who have favourited and those who have reviewed. I'm not going to mention anyone is particular – I'll end up forgetting someone and you know who you are. Your comments and theories have kept Polar going when it would have otherwise petered out tangled in a web of its own complexity. After 6 months, 426 pages and 293,472 words Polar has been an exhausting, but exhilarating experience and I'm so glad that I dived into the abyss of fanfiction. I have enjoyed meeting you all – hopefully we'll cross paths again, in this fandom or another. Xo MA

Epilogue

"Darylina!"

His tone was frustrated.

"Calm down Captain," she said placidly, with just a hint of a teasing grin.

As she knew it would, the endearment made him throw her a glare, giving her the opportunity to smile at him and the tension eased out of him. She had started calling him Captain and giving him an 'aye aye' with a cheeky grin as soon as she'd seen the first prosthetic that they had fitted to his stump. It hadn't quite had a hook on it, but it was a fairly basic design that let him screw on certain implements. Later designs had been more sophisticated – they'd been getting lots of practice at dealing with people with limbs missing _Officer Friendly hadn't been the only one to figure out how to stop the infection spreading._ He'd left all those behind though, the simple shell that surrounded his stump, protecting the sensitive skin from accidental hurt as well as giving him a solid base to thump with had been more his style – and beggars couldn't be choosers.

"Tha fuckin' pussy 'as lost it," he groused.

"I doubt that," she smiled again _looking fucking contented_. "Maybe we're just not in range tonight. Maybe," she added. "maybe he's _asleep_."

_She looked tired_ he noted _it was close to midnight_. There were discoloured bags under her eyes; the constant stress of being on the road; travelling in an un-air conditioned HMMWV in the heat of the summer was wearing at any time, let alone in her condition.

It had taken them months to find the Centre to start with, working their way through or around the isolated groups of humanity that they'd encountered on their journey east. Some had had a semblance of authority and they had worked from their information further east. They'd hit the geeks full on as well, but with just the two of them they'd been able to get their way through mostly by avoiding and hiding rather than engaging. Of course on some occasions engaging had been the only option and it had been the way that they had dealt with a glitch of about two dozen that had first impressed the French Colonel – safely ensconced behind one of his walled outposts and watching them through a sniper rifle scope. The legionnaires that he sent to rescue them arrived to a wall of dead dead geeks and were met with bared blades – then blinked as Penny the chicken had squawked. The Colonel had been impressed with Marion's pronunciation of his lieutenant's rank, declaring that though her accent was _épouvantable_, that Australians were _charmant_ and that she herself was _ravissant_ – a welcome change to the _vulgarité_ that he had found himself surrounded by. Merle's eyes had narrowed; he swore the Colonel looked at him at that last comment.

Colonel Chabrière was happy to take them east, his eyes narrowing slightly at Marion's rationale that she wanted to find someone who get her back to Australia, flicking to Merle with obvious uncertainty. He had confiscated their weapons, but upon finding Merle dealing (quite effectively) with a _gênant_ of a sergeant (who had been silly enough to say something disparaging about Marion) he had immediately offered Merle his position in his legionnaires. Merle had been taken aback at the offer – uncertain as to how anyone could see him as a leader, but he had taken it if only to keep an eye on the Colonel and figure out whether he was to be trusted.

It was well over a month later that they had arrived at the Colonel's headquarters; Merle firmly ensconced as the Sergeant; generally liked but also feared. Marion and the Colonel were firm friends, she had told him about how she had come to be stuck in the country and in turn listened to his own experiences. The headquarters were set up close to Camp David – an area that had been kept free of geeks by the dedication of remnants of the Secret Service, the American military and foreign troops that had been stationed with the diplomats at Washington – and a brutal zero tolerance for the infected. They had been subjected to a blood test and it was only the Colonel's intervention that had stopped Marion being shot on the spot as her blood showed traces of the viruses.

The security had been disbelieving at first; Marion and Merle both having been subjected to seemingly endless interrogations, interviews and even lie detector tests in an effort to determine what sort of plan was in place to destroy the last vestiges of civilisation. Again it was the Colonel, extracting himself from his own interrogation with much flamboyance, with the aid of the last remaining member of the Australian Consulate, who had gained their freedom – simply by telling the scientists at the Centre that there was a potential cure on site. There had been a brief battle between military and civilian, American and foreign – but then the word had come down from the President. Then there were more questions and the blood tests started in earnest. Merle throwing a medical trolley through the window between the two rooms had brought a stop to the clinical trials on him and also seemed to shake some sense into the establishment. They had been released into the community, given a small pod with a bedroom, some living space, bathroom (they'd run the hot water out each night for the first week) and even a small vegetable garden which Penny loved. The Colonel had reclaimed Merle for his duty (to give him something to do the Lieutenant had confided to Marion) and Marion occupied her time between being the laboratory guinea pig and working on the alternative energy scheme that was providing the community with electricity.

There had of course been a church within the community and Marion had _of course_ found it. Merle had tried, but as soon as his gruff "Ya be fuckin' wit' me" had echoed through an unexpected moment of silence during mass the Bishops hadn't been all that favourable of him (of course her own giggle at the words "Bless his Holiness, Pope Benedict, in Rome" hadn't made it to the Bishops' ears). Father Derek had been a little bit more pragmatic and had still visited their little pod on his rounds, his eyes taking in everything from the shared bed to the green rings on their fingers.

The pregnancy had been an academic act of sabotage. Not being satisfied with taking her blood, her hair, her skin, her _fuckin' _bone marrow (_that _they only did once – he be fuckin' damned if he would ever let them hurt her like that again) – everything which she'd given freely, but then they wanted embryonic fluid. If he had known he would have hightailed it out of there immediately, but she hadn't (as she confessed tearfully sometime later) even considered that they would do more than ask. His mind still boggled with the thought that someone had broken into their quarters and so painstakingly irradiated the packet of condoms to thin the plastic – not enough that they noticed, but _enough._ It had only been a matter of time then.

He'd walked up to the Centre one afternoon, early off his shift, to surprise her with a walk home – maybe even an icecream which she had been hankering for the previous couple of weeks. He'd walked into the laboratory to hear her tearing verbal strips off the whitecoat – it had taken him only a couple of moments to figure out the gist of what she was saying and then his legionnaires had had to forcibly restrain him from physically tearing strips off the whitecoat. Then of course he'd had to explain to Marion that that didn't mean he wasn't hanging around.

It had been a serious error on his behalf. Despite the Colonel's protests he was removed from active duty and confined to the pod, Marion similarly confined or escorted around the Centre on her business. This often involved needles as long as her broadsword and he would have to hold her until she cried herself into exhaustion each night as he fumed with impotence. He then took to going with her to mass again, the church being the only place where the Bishops held total sway (_having the President brainwashed_) and flat out refused to let any of their guards in.

"Ya feeling alright?" he asked.

She shrugged, propped up on one of their bags, one hand sitting on her extended belly. "As good as someone who is 8 and a half months pregnant does."

_Wrong thing_ she thought as a pained look crossed his face and he yelled into the radio again.

In truth, despite the way she was perched up now and spent most nights, the heartburn was causing her more than mild discomfort. There was no history of twins in her family, so she had decided that it must be his or perhaps it was another one of those biological anomalies.

It had been a minor miracle coming onto Colonel Chabrière when they did _but then the Lord God does help those who help themselves _and they had been very careful in how they had approached their search for someone who could use her information properly. She had been so hopeful of the Colonel and when he had offered Merle a position in his Legionnaires she had been all but convinced. She had hid her smile at the pure look of disbelief on Merle's face, knowing that he had never imagined himself as a leader. But she knew that he had the ability to read people, much better than her own, and was quite frankly a master manipulator and a good motivator. _The Colonel was a very canny man_ she thought affectionately. His Lieutenant was also an intelligent man, well read and mannered, but haunted by the sights he had seen. Merle was his perfect foil and she encouraged him to accept the position, convincing him that they would get closer to their goal and could figure out how trustworthy the Colonel was.

In the end it was only the character of the Colonel that kept them alive.

After the time on the road the pod was almost like heaven. Inside the community there were some children, although not many, some pets, also not many, and people from all cultures working together. The only vehicles were the ubiquitous HMMWVs and the occasional military helicopter with the majority of people walking or riding bicycles around the lush community. It was almost a sort of utopia and she loved almost every moment, even the constant need to give blood, hair and skin had been ok because she knew what they were trying to do. The bone marrow donation had not been as much fun and she had been glad to hide behind Merle's fury to avoid another one of those.

Saint Patricks had been made up from salvaged materials brought back, in the main, by the French Legionnaires but there were enough Catholics to justify mass being led by a Cardinal, Bishop and a priest – especially when the President was one of the faithful. She had found peace within the walls again, although normally alone after Merle had so effectively announced his disparagement of the whole establishment. Father Derek was a kind soul and she had found some peace in her confession to him, of the way that she had killed her family, how she had killed others, including Simon. She hadn't told him of the state of her union with Merle, but she had seen the way he looked at her ring and Merle's ring.

She had laughed at them when she was asked to get pregnant, but when she worked out that they were serious she had told them not to be stupid; that she was too old to be thinking about having a baby, especially with her birth history. _She should have told Merle of course _she knew – he would have sniffed out that something was wrong. She would always remember the sinking feeling as she had stared at the stick in the bathroom, the small pink cross seeming to magnify in size in front of her stunned gaze. It hadn't been until she saw the grin stretch across her case officer's face that she had realised the sheer scale of her naivety, _her stupidity_;that it wasn't just an accident, that it had been planned – just not by her and Merle. She had let fly, tearing his character to shreds, calling him every name that she had ever heard Merle utter (and there were a few). Of course Merle had walked in and had almost dismembered the man with his knife – if not for the Lieutenant walking past and hearing her screams she doubted that Merle would still be around – certainly the scientist wouldn't have been. The look of horror had driven a knife into her heart though; suddenly she understood what Carol meant. _But he was still here,_ she smiled and remembering the look on his face when his son or daughter had first kicked his hand through her belly she knew that he was never going anywhere.

"Fold it up for the night Merle," she said. "Come to bed," she patted the ground next to her, "we can wait another night. I'm not due for another couple of weeks," she said, trying to keep her tone upbeat.

Merle eyed the way that her belly took a sudden move to the right. "T'at's a Dixon inside of ya sugar – no Dixon 'as ever followed tha rules. Daryl!"

_She was scared_ he knew. She had to be – hell he certainly was.

He'd decided that he was getting her out, that he didn't care what havoc he caused in the community, didn't care that most of them were innocent; his woman and baby were being hurt and he couldn't sit back and not doing anything. Father Derek had walked in as he was emptying his secret stash of weapons into a bag – he'd frozen and stared at the man. Father Derek had stared back and then carefully, slowly, walked in and closed the door. "Do you trust me son?" he'd asked. "Nope," had replied Merle baldly and got a smile in response. "Do you trust God?" the priest had asked instead. Merle had hesitated. "I t'ought He and I 'ad an understanding," he'd finally admitted. "Will you answer me one question?" had continued the priest and at Merle's nod he had asked one simple question.

The Bishops had stormed the pod later in the afternoon; spouting a whole heap of twaddle about living in sin and the peril that her soul was in if she didn't confess her sins and marry Merle in a proper Catholic service. They'd threatened to excommunicate her and he'd been just about ready to step forward and give them what they wanted, cursing the stupid priest, when she had let loose. She'd called them on their hypocrisy, demanding to know whether they actually wanted a church or whether they wanted their own little cult, screaming at them for forcing them to be married when it was acceptable for the whitecoats to experiment on her unborn baby. Apparently it hadn't been acceptable for it was that night that their guards were suddenly overcome with a strange desire to sleep.

It hadn't been enough; alarms had sounded, dogs were released, lights were turned on. For thirty hours they had hidden in Father Derek's wardrobe, Merle with his knife braced, holding Marion as she dozed but not sleeping at all while the sounds of the search moved all around them, inside and out but never into the bedroom "As God is my witness I have been here all day and I haven't seen them" had professed Father Derek_ (he'd closed his eyes_ smirked Merle_)._ Once the initial heat had died down Father Derek had escorted them to the wall; there had been a brief moment of tenseness when Colonel Chabrière had stepped out of the shadows, but he had smiled and handed them keys and papers and assured them that he had taken care of everything.

Marriage had still been part of the deal and Marion had become Marion Dixon (for the second time and officially in the eyes of the church) under the moonlight in the middle of a forest under the hand of Father Derek and witnessed by Colonel Chabrière and two Legionnaires. They had taken the laden HMMWV with thanks, driving through the rest of the night and the day without stopping except to refuel from the supplies in the back. He'd had no trouble consummating his marriage this time – he'd had her ride him into the night, her glorious breasts even larger than normal, her belly swelling ahead of her, skin glinting in the moonlight.

"If he doesn't answer, I'm taking ya back ta tha last outpost," he cursed.

"No Merle," she shook her head.

"Damn it woman!" he yelled and Penny clucked in protest, shifting a little in her cage and starting off a round of cheeping from the fluffballs beneath her before she sat back down and they quieted. Jess lifted up her head and growled slightly and he cast her a glance. "I'll stand in t'at room with a fuckin' shotgun and make sure t'at they don't 'urt 'im – but I am _not_ going to lose you in fuckin' childbirth after all we gone t'rough."

He turned away from her, tugging at Jess's ear out of habit. He had given her a proper name – Kujo, appropriate at least for her breed if not her nature. But while Marion had not protested she had just started calling the dog Jess – shrugging and saying it was a tribute to Dog when he challenged her. Jess thump thumped her tail at his touch and a smile tipped his lips. Of course the bitch answered to Jess _not _Kujo so he had just given up. She _was_ his dog, rescuing her from a fight (which she was losing) with three other dogs had assured him of that, and she would always be with him on a hunt – whether for food or geek. But when it was quiet she was often found cuddled up with Marion. Except of course when the _fuckin'_ cat was there. He could hear the purr from here as Marion stroked his fur rhythmically. _Snowflake _he snorted "T'ere's not a fuckin' spot o' white on tha t'ing," he had protested as they were leaving one of the outposts that they had stopped at for supplies and checkin as per the Colonel's orders. But Marion, who had dragged the kitten out of the water, had just shaken her head and said his name had nothing to do with his colour but with his luck. Snowflake and Merle had set up a tenuous relationship; they tolerated each other for the sake of Marion, although Merle suspected that the cat enjoyed teasing him as he often woke up with a mouthful of fur, an Edinburgh Tattoo being danced on his back and a growing Ridgeback lying across his feet.

"They registered in Lincoln; we know that they came up this way. Herschel would be very experienced in C sections," she said. She hadn't broken the news yet – he was bugging out enough at the thought of one daughter arriving, let alone two. Then of course she might end up with two Dixon boys.

"On fuckin' 'orses!" he snarled and got another admonishment from Jess for his tone of voice.

"He'll know what to do," she said placidly. "If not – then we'll contact Samson."

"T'ere ain't time ta get ya back ta Lincoln," he snapped, although in truth there probably was. "Darylina!" he yelled into the radio again.

"Keep yer fuckin' voice down ya dumb redneck piece o' shit," growled a voice back at him through the radio. "Ya'll wake tha babies."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Apologies if the French words I picked out of the Google translator aren't quite correct in context.

It is _never_ too late to leave me a review - I don't care how 'old' this fic is, if you enjoyed, please drop me a line.


End file.
